Pride, Prejudice and Fortune-telling
by marina1366
Summary: The 21st century Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty and Lydia are friends not sisters but they still are looking for love and fun
1. Chapter 1

"_I keep him in the cellar," said the Marquise, "don't you think, my dear, that's _

_generally the best place for men?"_

_She laughed a happy silvery laugh, affectionately patted her young guest on the rosy cheek and continued:_

"_He sits there restrained and thus totally helpless and the mere thought that I can do whatever I want with him keeps me aroused throughout the day. When I visit him I wear only black and scarlet. And I always bring something sweet for my sweet prisoner. Whatever men say – they all have a sweet tooth. Slowly-slowly I take my clothes off while I approach him and then cover myself with honey or whipped cream. He can only watch – his eyes glistening in the dark. Yesterday I brought some apricot jam with me: it happened to be his favourite. You wouldn't believe what his tongue…" _

Apricot jam, Elisabeth thought, I have some at home. The question is how I can use it.

Elisabeth wasn't referring to some type of refined gratification. She was thinking about making a dessert for tomorrow's dinner with her friends. The reason why Elisabeth was less concerned with the fascinating delights of _the Marquise _than with her coming event, laid in her nature: she was as pragmatic as a grim realist. By the way do you know this anecdote of a pessimist, optimist and grim realist? So, a man visits his GP complaining that his penis doesn't take upright position any more.

GP-pessimist (gloomily): Yes, I see what you mean… And it also hangs very lopsidedly, doesn't it?

GP-optimist (very brightly): Yes, you're right! But look how gorgeously it dangles!

And finally:

GP-grim realist (impolitely): So? You didn't come here for bonk, did you?

"No, jam won't be any good", Elisabeth thought, "let's say, quinces, yes, quinces, soft meringue and for the base, I guess, some sort of shortcrust pastry."

So the desert was settled but not the rest of the meal. To get some inspiration the girl finally parted both with her cosy sofa and with the book she was reading (by the way its name was _Marquise LeRui's Love Lessons_). She went into her small but cleverly organised kitchen and opened the door of her fridge-freezer. A bunch of dill sprung at her out of it. Not being prepared for such an attack, she stepped back hastily and tripped over Terry the Cat who followed her in the vain hope to get a second dinner or at least a modest, well, adequate or rather biggish snack. Terry wasn't her cat. He was her mum's but mum was away and Elisabeth catsat for her. Terry didn't mind as long as she cared for him properly, that is, gave him good food and a lot of it too.

Sitting on the floor next to her dill Elisabeth tried to decide whether or not she had sprained the ankle. Finally she came to the conclusion that she hadn't, after which she unceremoniously pushed Terry who had already snuggled against her knees and was fast asleep away, stood up and examined inside of her fridge in order to find the herb a proper place. While squeezing it into the fridge's door between a carton of milk and a bottle of barbeque sauce Elisabeth thought about her friends and their regular parties.

It all started last winter. It was a cold wet nasty February full of dull grey rains, a murky mood and the 'flu. Actually the 'flu was the reason why Elisabeth, instead of rushing home after work to _Corrie_, its dark secrets, gruesome revelations and failed weddings, took a train to Brighton to see Mary. Mary worked there in the Royal Sussex County Hospital but the more important thing was that one of her colleagues invented some ointment which helped magically against all sorts of acne. And that was what Elisabeth needed desperately. Like virtually everyone around her she had recently caught the 'flu which passed surprisingly fast but as a reminder left her with ugly red spots covering her forehead and chin. For two weeks Elisabeth tried all the possible and impossible means to get rid of them but without any result. Well, she had one consequence: she became nearly four hundred quid poorer. Still she was desperate, she was between boyfriends at that moment and her face in the mirror firmly assured her that she had as much chance wooing Mister Right or Mister Wrong as England winning next World Cup. No make-up however lavishly applied could hide her red glowing chin and her new hairdo with a long and mighty fringe didn't become her at all. Mary was her last hope.

"No fear!" Mary said when they discussed the problem over the phone. "She'll help you – she's a real wizard. And after she'll fix you we will buy some fish and chips, go to my place and catch up on the last year. Or is it two?"

"Two." Elisabeth said rather shamefacedly. "And you've forgotten that my stomach doesn't accept any junk food."

Mary and Elisabeth became friends at primary school. Then Mary's parents moved but surprisingly enough the girls stayed in touch through all the school years. After school they began to drift apart. Mary took a University course and Elisabeth didn't. She was too pretty for her own good. At first she tried herself in modelling – unsuccessfully – then for a couple of years she dreamt about conquering Hollywood but all she got were two or three episodic roles in some obscure British productions. Those years were hectic, hungry and full of new people who were sometimes freaky, very often dull and almost always useless. Yet at least one of them wasn't and with his help Elisabeth unexpectedly landed perhaps not a very glamorous but steady job. Actually there was a lot of glamour around her as she became a stylist in the most posh hairdressing salon in London.

"I don't cook." Mary said with dignity. "When I work, I eat… what I eat and when I don't work I visit my parents."

"I will." Elisabeth said resolutely.

While thinking of that Elisabeth shifted the stuff inside her fridge making her mind up about the main course. In the end she decided to cook her friends _Beefsteaks a la Parisien_.

Mary's colleague was a brisk and efficient Asian woman. She asked Elisabeth a few professional questions, mostly about her general state of health and allergies, then opened the cupboard above her desk, took out a big porcelain jar with some cream-like substance and with a spatula separated a small amount of it into a plastic envelope. The stuff was terrifyingly brown and had the most revolting smell. Looking at Elisabeth's dubious face she unexpectedly smiled and said in her broken tingly English:

"You'll see the difference after the first application and after four you won't find a trace of these nasty spots."

The future proved that she was right.

Outside her office Elisabeth looked at the cream with disgust and sighed. Then she said:

"Off to you then?"

"Don't kill me, please." Mary mumbled.

Elisabeth rounded her eyes.

"Why? What have you done?" she said. "You're not contemplating a sex change _again_?"

"I'm serious. You remember my friend Kitty, don't you? Today she is going round Lydia's, some girl who works here too, and Kitty sort of thinks that I'm joining them."

"Oh!" That was all Elisabeth said, just one word, just one tiny "oh" but it was a very icy-cold and warning kind of "oh".

"No, really, let's go to Lydia's together. She won't mind especially if you're still willing to cook. She's fun too but it's not that. You see she has this neighbour who can predict the future. Lydia says she's absolutely amazing!"

"What, tarot-reading? Or does she have a crystal ball?" Elisabeth grumbled trying to look cross.

In reality she was intrigued. Everyone wants to know their future, especially when you're young, between boyfriends and look a total mess.

"No, she does it with coffee." Mary explained.

"Never heard of anything like that!"

"It's something oriental."

"Must be good then. They used to know a lot about magic and stuff."

"Kitty's heard from Lydia that this woman does it very rarely. But if she tells you certain things then you can be sure that they will happen sooner or later."

"Must be good…"

(In her flat Elisabeth smiled to her memories and then wrinkled her eyebrow trying to decide on the starter.

"I can treat them to some really nice fish", she thought, "after all I don't have a house warming party every day.")

"Are we going then?" Mary asked cautiously and when Elisabeth nodded gave her a big delighted hug. Then she let her go and waved to somebody behind Elisabeth's back.

Elisabeth turned around and made a very unpleasant discovery. She knew Lydia.

Although more than ten years had passed since when she last saw her Elisabeth could remember that day as though it was yesterday. Perhaps the reason for that was that the circumstances weren't common. Judge for yourself: she, Elisabeth, was lying on the floor looking at Lydia over the slightly hairy bum of a certain boy while Lydia was standing on the door threshold with half of the girls from their year behind her back. Lydia's eyes and mouth were open wide and her face was white with rage. Almost as white as her Valentino dress.

Elisabeth got to know Lydia at sixth form at the all girls' private school where she was awarded a bursary. She wasn't bright academically and there was no question of her passing the tests with a good enough result for getting the place yet she got it. There was no big mystery in how that occurred: Elisabeth cheated. At first she was absolutely thrilled about her achievement but after a month or two in the new school she began to regret her actions. Remorse had nothing to do with it, Elisabeth was simply miserable there. All the girls from her year belonged to one or another friendship group but no matter what they preached it was Lydia who ruled the roost. She was a real queen bee and nobody wanted to mess with her.

It was impossible to explain why it happened but Lydia hated Elisabeth from first sight. True, Elisabeth was very pretty but there were girls at the school who were really beautiful yet they didn't irritate Lydia at all. Elisabeth was witty and lively but she wasn't a leader and certainly no threat to Lydia who had wealthy parents, classy clothes, an elegant appearance and excellent scholastic results. Nevertheless Elisabeth soon found herself as a victim of daily bullying. Whatever she did, said or wore was ridiculed and scorned. Her clothes were branded as "Oxfam fashion show" and her educational progress didn't help either. After each of her poor performances Lydia told anyone who was willing to listen: "That's where taxpayers' money goes. We pay for some dimwits get a brilliant opportunity to fail all the subjects."

The best thing to do was to change schools but Elisabeth's parents were so proud of their daughter attending a posh public establishment that they would never let her do that. So Elisabeth carried on.

Her biggest humiliation came in the Spring Term of the Upper Sixth. Once every two years there was an organised event: a so-called Gym and Dance Display which in spite of its name offered the students to show their talents in many different fields. Dancing and gymnastics though remained the main. That year the Upper Sixth decided that their contribution to the school production would be a fashion show. The most energetic girls called some famous firms which promised to lend them some items from the summer collections while many young hopefuls queued for the audition to walk down the catwalk. Elisabeth who a long time ago decided to become a model and not just a model but a supermodel was one of them. She had everything for at least a school fashion show: the height, the correct figure and it's no wonder that she was at first short-listed and then chosen to be one of the lucky seven performers. Then the clothes arrived and they were wonderful. For the girls who came like Lydia from the well-to-do families they were probably just some other garments but for Elisabeth they were something out of this world. The ones she was supposed to wear were certainly the best. Absolutely magical!

And magical they turned out to be. Because when the great moment came Elisabeth couldn't find her rail. The other six were there and only hers was missing. Fortunately for her she spent all the time after classes with their Head of Year so at least nobody could accuse her of stealing. But it was a very meagre consolation. When the other six girls excited and gorgeous returned one by one from the stage Elisabeth bit her lip to stop herself from crying.

By the way Elisabeth's clothes were found in pristine condition the following morning.

Towards the end of school Elisabeth remained unhappy and almost ostracised. She didn't even want to go to the farewell party but at the last moment changed her mind: she was a fighter.

All the girls were bringing their boyfriends. Most of them were from the neighbouring all-boys' school and knew each other. For the past two years Lydia was steadily going out with one of them. He wasn't something really exciting from Elisabeth's point of view but all the other girls thought him absolutely dreamy: he was the captain of the school's rugby team, he was also rolling in it and knew a few five-syllable words. He naturally accompanied Lydia to the ball.

Elisabeth was already very popular with the male part of humanity but she invited to the party not her current boyfriend but her best mate. She knew that in case of further embarrassment he would be far better comfort and support.

And indeed he was. When he first saw Elisabeth's tormentor who approached her with the words: "Nice dress! Which flea market did it come from?" it was he who showed Elisabeth a simple but effective way of revenge. His plan was to humiliate Lydia in front of the whole school with the assistance of her boyfriend. They waited until the rugby hero had had a sufficient number of drinks and then started to put their plan into action. The most difficult part was to separate him from Lydia but even heroes have to go to the toilet from time to time. They ambushed him, then lured the guy into some empty classroom, where he willingly shared half a bottle of vodka with them, after which Elisabeth's friend evaporated.

"I'm so happy that I'll never have to go to school again!" Elisabeth said. "Isn't that great?"

With a slight stutter Lydia's boyfriend admitted that that was great.

"Let's drink to that!"

He was in such state that he would drink to anything. So they had another drink or two after which Elisabeth dropped down to the floor and he followed her. He was beyond comprehension yet willing to do what he thought Elisabeth expected from him.

Actually she hoped very much that she would be able to skip that part but for her plan to work she helped him to take off his jacket and the lower part of his clothes. She also allowed him to deal with some details of her outfit and while he unskilfully touched her with his hot trembling fingers she looked with great expectation at the door which fortunately opened before Lydia's boyfriend went into the final offensive.

Behind the door was Lydia informed by a well-wisher where to find her guy. The girl who brought the remarkable news got the information from Elisabeth's mate together with at least a dozen other girls. Elisabeth's mate was fast and efficient.

…The look in Lydia's eyes told Elisabeth that in spite of the past years she hadn't forgotten anything.

"This is Elisabeth," said Mary excitedly, "and you know what? She promised to make us a nice supper. She's a wonderful cook! Once for my birthday she made… Elisabeth, what did you call those stuffed peppers?"

"Stuffed peppers." Elisabeth said curtly.

"Hi, Elisabeth!" said the girl accompanying Lydia, Elizabeth guessed that that was Kitty. "I love it when somebody cooks for me. Unfortunately it happens very rarely."

"Good evening." Lydia said sourly and avoiding Elisabeth's eyes added. "If everyone's ready let's move."

Least of all she wanted Elisabeth joining their company but she wasn't going to explain to the others the reason for that, she had no intention to revive an old story of a stolen boyfriend, the boyfriend whose very name she couldn't remember now even for a pair of new Chanel sandals. Neither she was going to admit that she let some miserable creature like Elisabeth do that to her. The only thing which really pleased Lydia was her rival's pimples flourishing in abundance on her face. The sight mollified her enough to agree with Elisabeth's presence for the whole evening.

Lydia lived on the seafront not far away from the hospital so she normally walked to and from home. Kitty and Mary on the other hand had to drive to reach the hospital but after a fruitless discussion over whose car they would take this time they decided to leave both in the hospital car park. Elisabeth didn't feel at all comfortable and in order to hide her embarrassment all the way to the Lydia's place she told anecdotes. Mary laughed like mad, Kitty looked at Elisabeth with adoring eyes and even Lydia smiled once or twice coldly. She thought that time had changed her old adversary to the better, she became more articulate and less aggressive and although she was still frightfully common her spots made Lydia much more tolerant to some of Elisabeth's other flaws.

"One more!" Kitty demanded.

"Well…there was this medical student who was going to have his own practice and earn hundreds of thousands in the future but so far he was broke. He found a very cheap room to rent in an old farmhouse but trying to cut the price down even more he asked the farmer whether or not there were mosquitoes in the area. I can't stand them, he said. The farmer who was already fed up with him offered him a deal: he would tie the student to the old oak-tree in the yard overnight and if a single mosquito would bite him, the farmer would let his room free of charge. Hoping that he would get at least one mosquito's bite and strike the bargain the student willingly agreed. Early in the morning when the farmer came out from his house to the yard he saw the poor guy in a horrific state: pale, swollen and looking half-dead. Oh dear, said farmer, I honestly thought that we didn't have mosquitoes here. It's not mosquitoes, said the student weakly, it's your calf. It decided that I was its mum!

"Please," said Mary choking with laughter, "stop!"

"No way!" Kitty interrupted her. "Tell us one more."

"What about?"

"Anything. Whatever you want."

"Medical students again?" Elisabeth asked slyly.

"Yes, please!"

"OK. So there is a lecture in a big auditorium in the medical school when suddenly somebody runs into it shouting: "Smith's died!" All the girl-students immediately leave the room without asking for permission and the highly surprised professor follows them. He sees the naked body lying on the table in the morgue, then looks at his member, says "Oh my!" cuts it off and brings it home in the glass jar. There he addresses his wife: "My dear, look what a sample!" His wife takes a look, goes pale and shouts: "Smith's died!""

This was the last anecdote they had time to hear as they had gotten to Lydia's house. She had a very nice place in one of those beautiful buildings which made Brighton so charming. Tall, white, with long windows it looked proudly and composedly over the sea: blue and glorious in the summertime, rough and dirty grey now. Elisabeth didn't have the opportunity to see the entire flat during her first visit: only the kitchen and the sitting room. The former was big and dark while the latter had a very nice shape and seemed to be rather empty. A corner cabinet, a long coffee table, a couple of two-sitters and a few armchairs were all the furniture in the room of at least 40 sq metres. Elisabeth's own tiny lounge was simply stuffed with different bits and pieces and she thought that it looked much cosier than that palace-like parlour. All the things including the rug on the shining parquet were obviously very expensive and stylish yet not only Elisabeth but also Mary and Kitty seemed to feel much better in the kitchen.

"Don't think that I'll slave for you while you sit around smoking, sipping your wine and relaxing." Elisabeth warned the girls seeing that Mary got a pack of cigarettes out of her handbag."

Mary was a rather heavy smoker but of course the hospital's policy didn't approve such things so she could only smoke when not working.

"You'll wash all of this and then cut it." Elisabeth continued speaking to Mary. "Lydia, do you have cheese? Great! Kitty, you have to grate some for me and, Lydia, do you think I can look around your cupboards, perhaps I'll find something inspirational."

All she found was milk and a piece of rather stale baguette, a dozen eggs, a big earnest looking marrow and some other insignificant stuff. Yet she managed to create a real feast.

She made what she called "tasty omelette" and French toast, she cut the marrow into thick slices and grilled them. Sprinkled with dry mixed herbs, covered with cheese and left for a couple of minutes in the hot oven for the "finishing touch" it produced a simple yet very delightful snack.

When Lydia's neighbour, an expert in coffee-reading, came they'd already finished their meal, had a drink or two and didn't need Elisabeth's anecdotes any more to giggle all the time. The neighbour whose name was Jane looked at them with some envy and said with a heavy sigh:

"Sometimes I wish I were single again."

"I'm not single!" Kitty said with dignity.

"Join the club!" Jane said darkly. "Kids?"

"A beautiful boy." Kitty answered proudly. "He's five and he's the most intelligent and handsome and sweet and intelligent boy."

Her speech was slightly slurred.

"That's twice intelligent." Mary said not very comprehensibly either.

"Yes, he's very intelligent." Kitty agreed.

"Ladies, I think, it's time for coffee." Jane said.

She brought her own coffee-pot with her, it looked like a retired Colonel of the British Empire covered with scars, distinction marks, yet honest and reliable. The coffee she made was aromatic and very strong. When they finished it Jane commanded the girls to overturn their cups and leave them to dry on the saucers. Elisabeth felt a tingle of excitement.

"Who's first?" Jane asked and Lydia said firmly: "Me!"

As Elisabeth learned that day Lydia had been trying for some time to get close with one of the male colleagues and finally got a date with him on Saturday. Well, not a real date, he didn't invite her anywhere yet but Lydia was full of hopes because under a false pretence she managed to entice him to her place. She told him that she had a copy of _Il Bidone_ which she didn't have but knew where to get it. Jane's husband was a real Fellini fan and Lydia hoped that even if he didn't agree to part with his precious movie Jane would nick it for one evening.

By the way one old proverb, probably Latin as most of them are, says: "Tell me what's your favourite food and I'll tell you who you are". Lydia's favourite dish is _Lamb Kidney_ _Délicieux. _ Does that tell you anything about her character?

"How interesting," said Jane after some meditation over the coffee-cup's bottom, "you're heading for a new love affair."

"Yes!" Lydia said with feeling.

"You're going to have a lot of trouble with him." Jane continued. "I see too many women …"

"Many women?" Lydia exclaimed crossly. "Dirty swine! He looks so innocent, almost virginal. I spent nearly two months dancing around him before I dared to make the first move!"

"Then it's not him."

"What?!"

"Now I see it clearly: you haven't met him yet, but don't worry, you will and very soon too. It looks like somebody you've known for a long time will introduce you. As for the young man from your work place, forget about him. Nothing will come out of it."

"But he's so cute!" Lydia wailed.

Elisabeth thought that it was her turn to go next but Kitty was faster. It didn't do her any good as Jane didn't find anything exciting in her cup.

"Sorry," she said at the end, "maybe next time."

"That's OK." Kitty said gloomily. "I'm a happily married woman and I don't need all your mumbo-jumbo anyway."

"Although," she added a bit wistfully after a short pause, "some teeny-weeny romance would be nice. You know, I'm really, honestly happy. I love my husband and the sex is good but sometimes I remember how it was before we got married and I miss that time. Flowers, funny little presents…"

"Telephone conversations." Jane continued. "My husband used to call me at least ten times a day when we were dating."

"Mine too." Kitty said. "I'm not saying that he's completely inattentive now but sometimes I just feel like having somebody serenading under my balcony."

"You don't have a balcony." Mary hurried to remind her but Kitty didn't reply.

"You know what I like most of all in relationships?" Elisabeth joined the conversation. "Making love for the first time."

"I don't!" Lydia said. "You don't know much about him and what's even more important: he doesn't know anything about you: what you like and how you want to start and which way you prefer to end. No, I would say: second time. Or even the third."

"I don't mind sex," said Mary while the others greeted her statement with wolf whistles and stupid remarks like "Really?" and "Good girl"_,_ "but I think that there are more precious things. Like when you have just met somebody nice. I simply love that first glance and first smile. And when you realise that he likes you as much as you like him. And you flirt and try to do your best to make him like you even more. And how you spend the best part of the day in front of the mirror preparing for your first date with him."

"Oh my God," Lydia interrupted. "I always get a spot on my nose right before my first date. It's a rule. I can't remember a single first date with any really attractive guy that I haven't had my own very special beauty mark."

Kitty sighed noisily and stared at the floor to avoid her eyes meeting Elisabeth's, on the contrary Mary gave Elisabeth commiserating glance but Lydia brushed away their emotions:

"Don't mind her! She'll be alright, she's tough. I know her from school, she's always been tough."

"You really think so?" asked Elisabeth looking very pleased. "You were tough too."

"Yes." Lydia admitted proudly. "We were two tough bitches. And I don't mind you having f***ed my boyfriend…what was his name? But promise me that you won't f*** him ever again."

"I promise." Elisabeth said solemnly, Kitty and Mary stared at two of them open-mouthed and Jane took Elisabeth's cup without even asking who was next.

By the way Elisabeth's favourite dish is _Green Soup_. It's a very simple but absolutely delightful dish. For it you need some sorrel which isn't easy to get but if you live in the countryside you can always pick it in the fields or better go to the local Polish shop and obtain it from there in a small glass jar under the name Schav or something very similar.

"That's one naughty cup," Jane said studying, "looks like you're going to sleep with brothers."

"She doesn't have brothers." Mary whispered with some awe.

"Not my brothers, you perv!" said Elisabeth.

"No, not her brothers." Jane verified.

"Brothers?" Elisabeth asked thoughtfully. "I don't know too many brothers. There're two cousins though: they work with me but I've always thought that they weren't straight. Their girlfriends never visit us, they don't flirt with any of our female clientele despite the fact that some of them are real sex-bombs."

"Elisabeth's a hairdresser." Mary explained. "She works at the _Maxim's_."

"Get out!" Lydia shouted. "No kidding? I desperately need to do something with my hair. I look terrible!"

"OK." Elisabeth said enthusiastically but Jane stopped her.

"Not tonight," she said, "you have more alcohol in your bloodstream than…than blood itself, I would say."

"Tomorrow then." Elisabeth promised. "Tomorrow I'll make you such a hairdo that you will look like an angel."

"Can't imagine that." Jane said calmly, but Elisabeth repeated stubbornly: "Like an angel… and I will make _you_ look like an angel too for your future-telling even if I have to sleep with Damien and…"

"Thank you." Jane said. "Do you want me to finish with your cup? You're going to move into a new apartment."

"I'm not!" Elisabeth said hotly. "I like my flat although it is a rat hole and my landlord is a dirty old scoundrel who spies on me and each time we meet tries to grope my bottom! To think about it, I hate the place but it's all I can afford at the moment, so I'm staying and that's final."

"I don't know." Jane said. "But it's here in your cup and also some fortune too."

"You know, it's like money." Mary said helpfully.

"Money? Highly unlikely. Maybe Maxim's thinking of giving me a pay rise…nah! He's a bastard."

While Elisabeth meditated on her financial state Jane took Mary's cup.

Incidentally Jane likes spicy food. Her favourite is _Beef_ _Transylvanian_.

"That's nice," said Jane smiling at Mary, "you're going to get what you really like: a first smile and all that and a little sweet romance."

"Who with?" Mary asked jumping up and down in her seat.

"I don't know. It's somebody brand new in your life."

"Everybody's getting something new." Kitty said angrily. "Everybody but me."

"And me." Jane said. "What do you expect? We're married women."

"You haven't read your cup yet." Kitty reminded her looking with some jealousy at Jane's cup.

"I'm not sure that I will. It's not right to do it for yourself."

"Oh, come on," said Lydia, "try it. Maybe there's a Prince Charming in your cup. You'll never know if you don't look."

Jane reluctantly lifted her coffee cup. She looked at it for a while and then put it down with a sigh.

"Rubbish just as I thought."

"What was it?" Kitty asked with curiosity.

"If you have to know: somebody new for me as well."

"You see!" Kitty exclaimed accusingly.

"Chill out. It's not true. And where could I meet somebody anyway? I don't work, I don't go out and with my three little angels I don't have either the time or the strength to cheat on their father."

"What does your cup say about it?"

"That I will meet this man at some party but the only party I'm invited to is my grandparents' wedding anniversary and that will be strictly family business."

"Don't get upset," said Kitty somewhat disconnectedly, "everything will be alright: Elisabeth will do your hair and I'll cook you a nice dinner."

"Will you invite me for dinner?" Mary asked anxiously. "Don't forget, I'm your best friend."

"And I invited you today." Lydia reminded firmly.

"You know what?" Kitty said. "Let's have a dinner at my place in a fortnight so we could exchange news and stuff."

And everyone agreed that it was a great idea…

"It's gorgeous!" said Elisabeth helping herself with a second portion of fish roulette. "And I've never eaten anything like that before."

They sat in a small dining room of Kitty's 1930's house and enjoyed the dinner she promised them a month ago. Originally they intended to have it at earlier time but at first Kitty's little son Peter got ill, then Mary had to take her week's break which was planned months before, so instead of two weeks they had to wait for their get-together longer that they hoped.

Kitty's husband was away, her mum who lived in Eastbourne volunteered to take care of Peter and they got the opportunity to have a perfect girls' night in. Some of them wanted to share their secrets, some were impatient to make Jane tell them their future again and it was Mary who broke the news first.

"I met him," she said triumphantly, "my ideal romance."

"And I slept with the brothers." Elisabeth added gloomily.

"What, simultaneously?"

"No, consecutively. But on the same night."

"Cool!" Lydia said with envy forgetting for a moment about her refinement.

Everyone wanted to know the details, that is, everyone except for Mary who'd rather have told them about love life. But she was totally forgotten.

"So, there were these twins, only I didn't know that they were twins at first,"

Elisabeth began, "and that, Jane, was entirely your fault: you spoke about brothers. If you'd warned me I would have been much more vigilant. Anyway, one of them, Bill, came to our salon with some starlet from the West End. He accompanied her, I mean. And she treated him like dirt and I thought "Poor pet!" and felt sorry for him. Only as I understood later I was wrong: she was the injured party, he didn't think much of her and she felt that and tried to show him how she cared. Her hair didn't need lot of work, so he stayed waiting for her to get ready and while she was sitting under the dryer I offered them coffee and they said "yes" and I went to the staff room to make it and he followed me and she didn't look happy about that but what could she do? She couldn't run after us, could she? Of course, I didn't understand at first why she was so miserable until we went into the room and… Oh, I don't know, I'm not good in storytelling!

"You're doing just fine!" all her friends shouted with the exception of Mary who still would have preferred to tell her story instead of listening to Elizabeth's.

"All right, then. So he came after me and while I was making the coffee he began to kiss me: at first gently – you know, like at the back of my neck and near my ear and with my hands full I couldn't do anything."

She made a pause, thought it over for a moment and then continued:

"Though I'm not sure that I would have done anything even if I could. First of all he looked terrific: tall, great body, sort of longish hair, dark, thick but very soft."

"Cut the crap." Lydia said. "Nobody's interested in your professional opinion of his hair. Give us some dirt."

"OK, here's the dirt: our staff room has a door naturally but no lock or whatever. So there is a salon full of clients any of them could ask for tea or coffee any second and here we are making love basically the other side of the wall from them."

"You made love with him right after meeting him?" Mary woke up suddenly.

"Well, I wouldn't call it real lovemaking: just a few ins and outs to make a statement. Then we heard somebody's steps and stopped. Right in time, as a matter of fact. But it was great! He was great too but to tell you the truth I don't know which turned me on more: his spirit or the thought that somebody could come in anytime and see us."

"What happened next?" Kitty said impatiently while Elisabeth energetically half-emptied her wine glass.

"Not much: I returned to his girlfriend, finished her hair and took my next client."

"I'm warning you, Eliza Sutton: stop teasing us." Lydia said threateningly. "You promised us the tale of the twins and we're entitled to expect it from you with all the filthy details."

"May I at least have a piece of this wonderful cake first?" Elisabeth begged, as Kitty brought from the kitchen and put on the table the yummy-looking dish.

"Gulp it down real quickly," said Lydia warily watching Elisabeth putting a generous piece of cake on her plate, "and tell us about the twins."

"Nobody's going to gulp down my beautiful cake." Kitty said crossly.

"Then we would never know what had happened."

"Give me a break!" Elisabeth said. "I'll only have a tiny bite and I'll continue the story.

And true to her words she did.

After her encounter with Bill she returned home in a slightly dreamy state. Although her adventure was a very brisk one still it was a real adventure and it was fun to think about it and even to fantasize what could have taken place next if they hadn't been surprised by one of the colleagues. Elisabeth as I already pointed out was of pragmatic kind and didn't believe much in romance and all these sentiments, so she didn't suppose that she would ever see Bill again. After all he had every opportunity to ask for her number before he and his girlfriend left. But he didn't. Thus he wasn't really interested. Her feelings weren't hurt and being an opportunist very much like Bill himself she fully enjoyed her new experience. Later that evening when she was deeply engaged in the misfortunes of the heroes of her favourite medical drama (or fortunes, whichever you prefer) the telephone rang and keeping her eyes on the TV screen she reluctantly picked it up.

It was Bill.

"How did you get my number?" was the first thing she asked and while saying that she realised that just like Rett Butler she didn't give a damn.

"I have my ways." Bill said. "Do you want to see me?"

"I don't mind. Where are you?" Elisabeth said slowly trying to guess how much time he would need to get to her place and whether that would be enough for her to finish watching her TV programme.

I repeat: Elisabeth wasn't a very romantic person.

"I'm in Calombaris Gardens opposite house number 12a." Bill said.

"Where?!" Elisabeth nearly shouted. "Is there a law of privacy in this country? Who gave you my address?"

"Does it matter? And may I come in?"

"No, it doesn't and yes, you may," she agreed meekly and then added, "but keep in mind that you'll be up against a serious competition here."

"Why? Did you invite England football squad for the night?"

"No, but I'm watching TV."

"We'll see." Bill promised darkly.

He arrived a couple of minutes later and was absolutely right in stating that no soap was a match to him.

"We spent four hours shagging non-stop and I'm pretty sure that he didn't repeat a single one of his moves. At some point I felt like a ballerina, perhaps, not ballerina, but one of those synchronised dancers or acrobats: you know – to the left, to the right, somersault and back flip."

"You can't screw somebody and do a back flip at the same time." Kitty said with indignation."

"With Elisabeth you'd be surprised." Lydia murmured while Elisabeth continued her story.

Bill left early in the morning without breakfast, he was in a hurry. He worked for the BBC. In spite of his looks he wasn't and didn't have any inclination to be an actor. At that moment he was rather a pawn but maybe he dreamt of becoming a producer or great director one day. Who knows? Or rather who cares? Definitely not Elisabeth. All she knew was that she had the best sex in years or maybe ever and all she cared about was when they would repeat it. She didn't hear from him for the next two days, then he called and they had yet another head-spinning night, perhaps even better than the first one as it was Saturday and neither she nor he were working the next day.

Therefore they spent almost the whole of Sunday in bed too, making interruptions for eating and some refreshment in the bathroom. To think about it even there they had more sex than refreshment. As for food – they kept ordering Chinese from the local take-away and in between Elisabeth treated Bill to her, as she called "Three-minute snacks". She always remembered the words of wisdom her grandmother told her when Elisabeth was a little girl: the shortcut to a man's heart is through his stomach.

They parted very pleased with each other with Bill telling Elizabeth that he would be busy to the end of the following week as his team were shooting in Scotland. Whether she believed him or not she kept it to herself. He was back from Scotland (or any other place) when he said and they enjoyed each other's company on numerous accounts both at her place and at his minute studio in Central London. Then without a word he disappeared, she called him a few times but he didn't call back and one day not being a shy person she went to his apartment. Bill opened the door looking so cute that she kissed him straight on the spot. He was surprised and confused and she suspected him having female company. Moved by curiosity not by hurt feelings she stormed into his room but it was empty so not wasting any time she jumped at him like a tigress. He was unusually slow and even awkward at first…like for three minutes...but whatever was eating him soon gone and they were entertaining each other pleasantly when suddenly the door flung open and Elisabeth saw Bill standing on the threshold.

"So they aren't just twins, they are identical too," deduced Lydia, "how are they between the sheets, are they identical as well?"

"Not really. Ben, that's the other one, has as much stamina as Bill but he is more gentle. Unfortunately he's also less creative if you understand what I mean. "

"That Billy-boy sounds quite interesting."

"He is a wizard. Believe me, he's the best!"

"I wouldn't mind getting to know him closer."

"Me too but I'm not particularly popular with him at the moment. Ben on the contrary is simply stalking me. He wants to be with me and he doesn't care that I've slept with his brother. Or with hundreds of others. Those were his own words."

"Hundreds?" Mary asked with some horror. "How many men have you been with exactly?"

"Many." Elisabeth said.

"Never mind your men," said Kitty, "tell us what happened when Bill saw you and Ben together?"

After the silence which followed Bill's arrival, he and Elisabeth began shouting at each other. A bit later Ben joined them. Their exchange was noisy and heated but not particularly fruitful partly because they used more expletives than proper words, plus all three of them spoke at the same time, which didn't help. When they got tired and their conversation became more intelligible Elizabeth learned that Ben was staying at Bill's while Ben's flat was being redecorated. At the same time Bill was away working twenty four-seven for our glorious broadcaster but he swore that he called her numerous times.

But she wasn't home.

But he left her messages on her answering machine.

But then he stopped doing that because he remembered that on his last visit she accidentally sat on it while explaining to him why he shouldn't f*** her while she was painting her toe-nails.

"It's physically impossible," said Lydia, "unless you weren't sitting whilst painting your toes."

"I was not." Elisabeth said.

Her statement was followed by silent period during which each of them thought about pros and cons of such a position. And the possibilities it offers. They also ate the whole cake to the crumb. By the way the excellent dinner Kitty cooked for her friends was of three courses. For the starter she made a soup which everybody appreciated highly. _Autumn soup_ she called it.

"Tell us about your romantic encounter, Mary." Jane said kindly.

She watched Mary for some time and noticed her impatience to share her news with the girls. Mary looked at Jane with gratitude. She was simply dying to get everyone's attention.

Unlike Elisabeth's her story lacked any drama or erotic scenes. Mary was an active supporter of the Green Party and was on the committee of the local branch. As it happened all the members of the committee worked in the hospital which was very convenient for their meetings. The last one was due to the day after Mary's return from her break.

"By the by how was it?" Elisabeth asked licking her sticky fingers and looking at the empty cake dish with evident regret.

"The break? Great. I went skiing with my parents and my cousin's family. We do it every year. We went to Val d'Isere, it's a nice place, I've been there before. The slopes are great."

"Was there a lot of snow?" Kitty asked. "I adore snow. We have to go somewhere cold next year to show Peter a real winter."

Mary watched her friends forgetting about her main story with growing anxiety.

"I hate winter." Elisabeth said. "It's cold and you have to put a lot of clothes on and a lot of protective cream on your face and you look anything but elegant. I prefer summer. Long white open dresses, headscarves of the most exotic colours, m-m."

"You can be very elegant in the winter too." Lydia interrupted. "Just think about some nice mink coat or…"

"Wearing fur is wrong!" Mary said hotly.

"Don't you go green with me." Lydia said. "You eat meat and you smoke! And anyway let's get back to the point: did you meet your Prince Charming on the slopes?"

"No," said Mary smiling shyly, "he works in our hospital."

"Really? Who is he? Do I know him?"

Jo, the chairman, or rather chairwoman of the committee, dropped in to remind Mary about the meeting. We have a new member, she said triumphantly, and he expressed his wish to be on the committee. His name is Dan, he's Australian and he has started to work in ophthalmology just two weeks ago. By the way he's very handsome and single. Take your chance, girl! Mary only laughed. She broke up with her former boyfriend less than half a year ago and didn't feel ready for any serious commitment. She wouldn't mind having somebody nice and friendly for the occasional eating out and maybe more as they say in dating ads but "maybe more" meant chiefly going to the theatre or for a walk. And undoubtedly it would be nice to have a partner to play tennis. They had a great team at work but unfortunately all of them but Mary had partners so she always had to hunt for somebody to play with.

As for other things, well, unlike her old friend Elisabeth Mary didn't have much of an appetite for sex. (Elisabeth to Mary's strong belief was spending all her spare time on three things: making love, seeking somebody suitable for making love or thinking about making love.) Shy and quiet Mary wasn't very lucky with partners in the past. Perhaps if she would meet somebody like Elisabeth's Bill she would change her attitude towards sex but unfortunately for her all her former boyfriends were either shy like she or ignorant or inattentive. That's why for Mary the highest point of having sex was to lay side by side in bed with her beloved one: the head on his shoulder, his arms embracing her tenderly and his lips occasionally kissing her temple. Some sweet loving conversation was the best bonus she could think of.

Poor Mary!

By the way Mary likes to eat. Every evening she says to herself: "Tomorrow I diet" but tomorrow, as we all know, never becomes today. Her favourite dish is veal with Morella cherries.

As I said she didn't have any intention to pursue a new guy in their group, yet before going to the meeting she made-up her face much more carefully than she normally did and even went as far as styling her hair a little bit. After all she was a young single female and she wanted to be admired like any other woman.

As usual she came in slightly earlier than she was supposed to. Jo was there already but she wasn't on her own: a young tall and slender man was talking to her in the otherwise empty room.

"Mary at last." Jo said. "Dan, meet Mary. She's one of our activists. And a very-very nice person. She works in radiology. And she's very bright. And… oh yes, she plays tennis."

"You play tennis?" Dan rejoiced over the statement. "I love tennis. Where do you play? Can I come with you if it's not a big bother?"

Mary listened to the sound of his voice forgetting quickly about her resolution not to get involved until at least next summer. He was so friendly. His smile was captivating. His blue eyes looked at Mary as if they'd known each other for many, many years. His voice was charming and he was just too good to be true. In other words Mary was having her favourite perfect moment of the first acquaintance.

She'd even forgotten about Jo's presence while she was standing opposite to Dan looking into his sweet understanding eyes and smiling happily. Meanwhile the other members of the committee began to arrive. Linda came and Steve, busy as always, did too. He waved to everybody while talking on his mobile. His face was gloomy and his voice rather angry. He worked in the Personnel Department and there were constant problems and quarrels there. Finally The Bitch came with John dragging his feet leisurely behind her, the habitual expression of the utmost boredom on the face. John was one of those men whose presence made all women's hearts beat much faster. No matter how old they were, married or single, deeply in love with their partners or men-haters, as soon as he entered the room female grim faces bloomed with smiles, eyes shone and so on. Even now although Mary was very much interested in Dan, not in John, she felt a familiar shiver of excitement when he appeared. There was no reasonable explanation to that, just a mere fact of life.

There were only two women, or rather Mary knew only two women, who were totally cold to John's charms. One of them was Elisabeth. Last time she visited Mary in the hospital she passed John twice in the corridors without noticing him. During one of those encounters she even waited patiently while Mary exchanged greetings and a couple of words with him. And nothing! Not a word of appreciation, not a question of "Who's that?!" made in a trembling voice. Unbelievable. The Bitch was the other woman who didn't care much about John. She treated him like a piece of furniture. That day she actually used him as a piece of furniture.

"I can't sit in the armchair," she said firmly, "no, I can't sit on the settee either, I need something higher today. No, thank you very much, Jo, my back is OK, it's my dress. Yes, of course I can sit in it but when I stand up there is a high possibility that it will burst open like a ripe watermelon if you forgive me for being graphic."

Her dress indeed was very tight and Mary thought that she would rather die than to allow anybody to see her in such a dress. But then she didn't have the figure of The Bitch.

In the end John found a solution to The Bitch's problem by pulling her on his knees. That was another thing that Mary would rather die than do in public: to be seen sitting on a man's lap, although when she thought about John her conviction was slightly shaken. The sight of John whispering something into her worst enemy's ear while the latter smiled with contempt was so appalling that Mary turned her eyes away and caught the look that Dan gave to the couple. It was so full of disapproval that Mary immediately felt happy. What happened next was even better. Without a word Dan left the room and returned carrying a chair with him. He put the chair near John and with the appropriate gesture offered it to The Bitch.

"Thank you, I'm fine." she said sounding arrogant beyond belief.

"Give the chair a try." Dan said in a very cold and dry voice.

The Bitch looked at him with some interest and surprisingly enough obeyed. Mary was exultant but after the meeting Dan managed to make her even happier: she accidentally overheard him asking Jo whether she sincerely thought that The Bitch's presence at their gatherings was so crucial.

The next day for the first time Mary played doubles with her own partner. Dan was really good and Mary wasn't really that bad so they formed a fine couple. After the match, which by the way they won, Dan invited her to the local pub where she spent a very happy hour listening to his stories about Australia, his friends and his parents' farm. When they parted Mary knew for sure that she was in love with him but she wasn't sure about his feelings. He certainly enjoyed her company but was it just the friendliness of a newcomer or something more?

"So what was it?" Elisabeth asked impatiently.

"I don't know." Mary said honestly. "We only met a few days ago. On that meeting. And then I played tennis with him and had a couple of drinks and a nice chat."

"When did you play tennis?"

"On Wednesday."

"And what, you haven't seen him since?"

"I have. A few times." Mary said blushing.

"Mary, you didn't, you silly girl," Elisabeth said with disgust. "Oh my God, you did, you did it again."

"Did what?" Kitty asked. "Mary, what have you done? You don't mean that you've slept with him already, do you? Without telling me? Me, your best friend? It's disgusting."

Kitty's favourite dish doesn't even have a name. She started to cook it after her last summer break in Alicante so there was probably some influence of Spanish cuisine. Let's christen the dish _Beans Alicante._ And why not?

"Of course, she hasn't slept with him," sad Elisabeth angrily, "I wish she had instead of behaving like a complete fool. Each time she falls in love she does behave like a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. You tell them what you've done!"

There was a nice view of the hospital's parking lot from Mary's room. In the past such scenery combined with the noise and smell of arriving and departing cars irritated her beyond measure. Now it seemed to be a great advantage. Each time she saw Dan leaving his car, she rushed downstairs meeting him sometimes near the staff entrance, sometimes on the stairs or even outside in front of the building. Naturally it looked totally unintentional or at least Mary believed that it did. And on every occasion she gave a brilliant performance of a hard-working woman who was happy to see Dan but unfortunately too busy to stop for a chat.

"Don't you see how idiotic your conduct is? Even if he hasn't guessed yet why you bump into him every morning with the accuracy of a Swiss watch…"

"Of course he hasn't, why should he?" Mary said angrily.

"Yeah, sure. OK, let's suppose that he doesn't suspect anything. After all he's Australian. They're very trusting there. Healthy life style on the farm, innocent souls, etc. Still what do you gain from this stupid game and what are you going to achieve?"

"Well," said Mary blushing, "I see him every morning. That makes me happy for the whole day."

Both Elisabeth and Lydia stared at her like she was a particularly green alien.

"She's incurable." Elisabeth said nodding pitifully. "When are you playing tennis again?"

"On Monday. It's our club day. There's also Saturday morning but he's told me that at the moment he can't play on Saturdays."

"Don't be stupid then. Take the initiative, invite him home, grab any of his protruding parts and drag him into bed."

"I'm not going to do anything of that kind." Mary said with dignity, then she added: "Because I don't want to. I want to see him and talk to him. I want to walk with him along the beach on a summer night and swim together towards the sky and stars.

"Ri-ight," said Lydia, "you've lost it completely."

"At any rate," said Kitty quickly, "so far all of Jane's predictions have come true.

Elisabeth had her brothers and Mary found a true romance. And nothing exciting happened to me as it was promised."

"And I'm really moving into a new flat." Elisabeth interrupted her. "I won the Lottery!"

"You never!"

"Yes, I did. Five hundred thirty-two thousand eight hundred fifty pounds! Which means: goodbye, horrible dump which I called "my place" for the last three years, hello, gorgeous little flat in a quiet cul-de-sac very close to work. Somewhere in May I'll invite you for a real housewarming party but right now I wouldn't mind if you give me another coffee reading: I want to know what to expect."

"And maybe you will see something interesting for me too." Kitty said wistfully.

"Thank you for being such great friends," said Lydia sarcastically, "and for your sincere interest in my affairs. And for asking me how things with Liam are going."

"Oh Lydia, dear, we're very interested in your news." Mary said in a small voice.

"Tell us, please, what happened."

Lydia opened her mouth to reply but at that time her mobile rang and when she looked at the screen she found out that it was her mother phoning which meant at least ten minutes of lively arguments with or without any reason. Nevertheless a thought of ignoring her mum's call didn't cross her mind. Lydia was a good daughter.

Also her mum was a very, very-very, persistent woman.

While Lydia was enjoying conversation with the mother Kitty turned to Jane.

"Now, what about you?" she asked. "How did that dinner go?"

"What dinner?" Jane said. "Oh, you mean my grandparents' anniversary. It was great! Absolutely great. They rented a banquet hall in the Grand Hotel for the evening. It was quite a big party. After all my grandparents have seven children. With them and all the grandchildren and the rest of the family and friends there were lots of guests altogether. More than a hundred as a matter of fact. The food was good and everything was fun and my granddad requested my gran's favourite song and they danced. Speaking of food we had an amazing pie there. They called it _Tower of Babel_."

Very exciting, I'm sure." Elisabeth said. "But what about you, did you meet somebody there?"

Jane thought about Charles. She remembered his body under the shower stream in the cubicle and felt a hot wave of desire. But aloud she said in a clear calm voice.

"No, sorry, girls. I told you, one shouldn't try to predict one's own future."

Although enjoying their company Jane didn't know her new friends as well as they knew each other. She met Lydia only because they were neighbours and if it wasn't for her youngest son who was slightly sick at the time and to whom Lydia gave some medical advice their acquaintance would probably never have gone beyond "Hi!" and "Bye!" She didn't feel close enough to the girls to tell them the truth. And the truth was that after thirteen years of blameless married life Jane had gotten a lover. She met him at the banquet just like her cup predicted and although not their blood relative he was still part of the family.

Jane arrived at the restaurant almost breathless but on time. She was on her own, her husband had at the last moment to fly to Holland to settle some business matters. He didn't want to go there but he wasn't in a position to choose: he had a very good job and even greater prospects for his further career but for that he had to work very hard and follow every order. As if that wasn't enough Jane's babysitter fell ill and she spent hours calling all her friends begging them to find her a substitute. Finally her mother-in-law agreed to come and stay with the children for the night but by the time she appeared Jane had just a little bit more than an hour left till the party.

"You look terrible," her mother said after she congratulated her grandparents and went to say "hello" to her and Dad, "your face is red, your nose glistening and your hair is in complete disarray. I see you've changed your hair style. To tell you the truth I preferred the old one. This doesn't become you at all."

This was Jane's mum all right. Jane didn't remember when the last time she heard something nice from her mother. When she got married and her husband didn't criticise everything she did she thought she was in heaven. In all truth she was so grateful that she spoiled him beyond belief. Later she added the kids to her list of VIPs. She fussed around them and the house like some overanxious clucking mother-hen forgetting about herself, putting on weight and every day looking more and more neglected. Then one day, it was during their summer break in Portugal, she saw herself in the mirror and got a fright. The fact that she was in her swimming costume didn't help at all. She started dieting and joined the local gym. She did it secretly because she wasn't sure how Adam, her husband, would feel about that. By Christmas she returned to her normal shape but it didn't look like Adam had noticed. Anyway she felt much better about herself now and even went to London for the seasonal sales bringing back masses of parcels and shoeboxes. The dress she wore to the party wasn't bought there. Jane found it just a few days ago in a small boutique in Brighton's Lanes. It was surprisingly expensive for such a place but as soon as she tried it she knew that it was made especially for her. It also went very nicely with her new haircut which Elisabeth did as she promised. Elisabeth set her tresses in exactly the same way as she did recently for some very famous model but she admitted that it suited Jane with her high cheek-boned face and her luxurious deep chestnut coloured hair much more.

"And did you have to buy gladioli?" her mother continued. "They look so…common."

Jane nodded absentmindedly for which she could get a severe reprimand from her mum did her grandma not approach them at that moment towing behind her a pair: a young girl of rather striking appearance and a man.

"Look who's here," she said, "Jane, dear, do you remember Diana?"

Diana was the child of gran's youngest, and as Jane had always suspected, favourite daughter. Tragically she died in a car accident when Diana was a mere baby and her husband whom Jane had met once or twice previously but didn't remember at all brought his daughter up on his own. Last time Jane saw her, Diana was a clumsy child but now that ugly duckling had turned indeed into a swan. Jane looked at her with genuine admiration while grandma explained:

"Her dad brought her back to England for University."

And Jane remembered that some years ago they moved to Canada: either emigrated or he went to work there – she couldn't recollect which.

"She's in the Trinity College, in Oxford," gran said proudly, "not just a pretty face, eh? "

"Time flies by," she sighed, "blink a few times and your eldest will be in University too."

Jane tried to imagine Tom as a graduate but instead of him she saw her littlest, Adam Jr. in a black gown and a graduating hat. A pleasant man's voice returned her to the real world. He spoke to her parents and she didn't catch his first words but she heard him saying something like the last time they all saw each other was at her wedding party.

So for the first time she looked at Diana's dad… and died.

Not literally of course. But for some time everything around her became unreal. The sounds seemed so distant. The crowd, even her parents, even her gran, turned into shadows with their figures and faces almost indistinguishable and only Charles she could see clearly and she heard nothing but his voice. At the table they sat far away from each other but from time to time she caught his glance or his smile and felt deliriously happy. She wouldn't have noticed what she ate if not for her mother who was unfortunately sitting too close to her and making sarcastic comments about all the dishes served. In reality the food was excellent. Fish was particularly delicious and they had very good lamb with prunes and the most unusual dessert:

After grandma and grandpa had their dance the other couples joined the floor. Young people treated the idea with contempt but the "oldsters" enjoyed tangoing and waltzing. Jane even saw her own mum with one of her brothers-in-law. Dad had hated dancing all his life and was obviously hiding somewhere.

Jane thought about Charles and whether he liked dancing, then she pictured herself in his arms swinging slowly to the sounds of music and he immediately appeared as if from nowhere and offered her his hand.

When she touched him for the first time it felt like an electric shock. When he put his arms around her body she couldn't stop trembling all over. When they danced her head spun.

It was spinning faster and faster and at the end she didn't think at all and couldn't remember or even understand how they found themselves at one point on the hotel's glazed balcony which was turned into a sort of greenhouse, stuffy and slightly neglected. They didn't talk, just kissed like mad. Then they kissed again in the taxi which took them back to Charles' place. He lived on the third floor and so they kissed in the elevator too. And later in front of his door while he tried to open it behind her back with his left hand – the right one was busy touching her neck under her beautiful new haircut. When they finally got into the flat and his deft hands took care of her clothes she completely lost feeling of time or reality. She was a feather, a dandelion's fluff, light summer cloud that drifted with a warm breeze not knowing and not thinking in what direction. When his naked body met hers it was like a revelation. And everything that happened afterwards was so breathtaking, so unbearably wonderful that it hurt.

She lost her head.

She lost touch with reality.

She remembered little of what had happened to her. Just bits and pieces. Just snippets, shiny smithereens.

Charles' face getting close to her, the softness of his lips, the sweetness of his kisses and slow, burning spasms of her desire.

There was nothing similar between Jane's and Elisabeth's attitude towards sex. For Elisabeth sex was yet another pleasure of life. She was totally shameless and relaxed in any situation. Her experience could make an old brothel's Madam blush while Jane had only one sexual partner before Charles: her husband. She was a virgin before she got married and even after thirteen years of life under the same roof with Adam still hated to change her clothes in front of him. Everything was so different now, she didn't feel embarrassed with her lover at all doing whatever he wanted her to do and finding it natural. Only now she realised that their sex life with Adam wasn't so great from the beginning.

The next day her mother-in-law would ask her where she stayed overnight. At my cousin Diana's father's flat, she would say honestly, smiling inside at her boldness and realising that Adam's mum would visualise some old or ageing relative, probably fat and bald, not at all like Charles with his trimmed body, so strong and tender at the same time. She would look sideways so as not to betray herself by the shining of her eyes or her incautious smile. Only when her mother-in-law would leave she would allow herself to think joyfully about the night they spent with Charles. And her head would spin again and her boys would be taken aback by her inattentiveness.

Little did she know then that those would be her last happy thoughts for long months ahead.

Although Charles didn't work in Canada any longer that didn't mean that he stayed in

England all the time. His job made him travel a lot around the world and he liked it that way. Now when Diana didn't need his everyday care and attention he felt free to live the life which satisfied him most. While Jane was falling for him in a big way his feelings to her were of a very different nature. He didn't mind having her occasionally in his bed and the fact that she was married and busy with her family suited him immensely. He didn't have any intention of making things between them serious of difficult. Thus he called Jane when he returned home, made love to her when he was pleased to do it and forgot about as soon as she closed the door behind her.

Not very nice – I know.

"Would you believe that?" Lydia said returning to Kitty's dining room. "I am to spend the weekend with my parents. Why? Because I can't find a proper boyfriend who isn't a geek, or a loser, or a taxman."

"What's wrong with a taxman?" Jane asked dubiously.

"I slept with a taxman once." Elisabeth said meditatively.

Lydia looked at Elisabeth with contempt and didn't even bother to answer Jane's question.

"So what happened with your date you told us about when we were at your place?" Kitty asked.

"Nothing. Jane was right. He wasn't for me. Definitely!"

"Did he stand you up?" Elisabeth asked mockingly.

"No, he did not! Nobody ever stands me up. He came and we watched this idiotic movie, sorry, Jane, I didn't mean that. I'm really grateful for your help, it's just that I'm still mad at Liam. And what's worse still unattached."

"Is he gay?" Kitty asked.

"No, he's not."

"Maybe he's impotent?" Elisabeth suggested. "Girls, girls, want an anecdote about medical students? The usual situation, you know, a lecture in a medical school and the old professor is saying: "A man, who wants to have sex but can't do it, is called an impotent". A gorgeous hunk from the back row asks immediately: "Professor, what would you call a man who can do it but doesn't want to?" Some plain nerdy looking girl-student jumps from her seat and shouts: "We call him a BASTARD!""

"I didn't have the opportunity to learn whether he was an impotent or a bastard," said Lydia dryly, "as when he was more or less ready to perform I was fed up with him. It was disgusting! I put on my most seductive little black dress, I bought a tonne of candles and I cooked him _pork medallions a la Provencal_."

"What happened?" Jane asked smiling.

"A lot actually. First of all he told me that I looked very nice and that his mum had a dress almost like mine and that she looked terrific in it. How do you like that? I look just nice. I don't look terrific, his mum does! He didn't comment on the candles but when he saw my pork medallions he exclaimed: "Great! How did you guess? This is my favourite dish. My mum cooks it absolutely admirably. If you want I can ask her for the recipe. I'm sure she will be happy to share her little secrets with you.

She has such a generous soul"."

"Gay!" Elisabeth said.

"Positively gay," she added after some contemplation.

"Gay guys are such a waste." Kitty said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean: _waste_?"

"I'll tell you what happened to me recently. I was shopping at Oxford Street with my cousin Jodie and then we popped into one of those Nero places to have a cup of coffee and we were just leaving the café when a beautiful white Bentley stopped not far away from us and the driver got out. He was just lovely: young, tall, with the body of some Greek god."

"Which god?" Lydia asked caustically. "The one that always sits on the wine barrel, naked, fat and totally drunk?"

"I've never seen Greek gods." Elisabeth said sadly.

"Remember young Claude Van Damme? Greek gods looked a hundred times better." Kitty explained. "Anyway, both Jodie and I said "Wow!" and "Hubba, hubba!" and we were ready to fight to the death for him when a short bow-legged freak joined the guy, they embraced lovingly and went down the street."

"Perhaps it was his dad." Mary said innocently.

"If your dad would stroke your brother's derriere in the same manner the shorty did, you would call social services."

"I don't have a brother but I get your point." Mary said.

"That's what I call a waste." Kitty explained. "A young smashing bloke who is interested in other blokes instead of chasing suitable women like for example a sweet little moi."

"I slept with a gay man once." Elisabeth muttered.

"You did what? You don't mean that you actually slept with him?"

"That's exactly what I did. Leo, one of our stylists, is gay – and as a matter of fact he still doesn't talk to me since that accident – and he had a special friend Martin. I saw him rather often when he came to fetch Leo after work. He had a body to die for and OMG! I wanted him. It's rubbish what they say that gay men can't be appealing to women. You bet they can. One day we had that Christmas party and at the end everyone was completely and utterly pissed. Leo brought his dear Martin, of course, he couldn't survive without him for a couple of hours! And I was bored. And drunk. So I asked my friend Rachel to help and while she discussed something cute and fluffy with Leo I took Martin into our spare room to show him something fluffy and cute. There I made him drink with me to a never-ending friendship: you know when you cross your right arms and down your drink and then kiss. To be on the safe side we did it twice. The first kiss was so-so, but the second was a proper one although he couldn't keep himself in a vertical position anymore. But then that wasn't needed anyway. As I didn't mind to be the active force he probably thought that I was Leo.

"So…how was that?" asked Kitty looking both embarrassed and immensely curious.

"It was OK, in fact it was very OK but this idiot couldn't find anything better to do than eventually confess to Leo. I suspect that he really enjoyed it and was dying to discuss his experience with somebody. Like, you know: look at me: I'm a big boy now and I've been straight once! Anyway, finish your story, Lydia."

"Well, when I learned so much about his mother, her habits and excellence and we watched that Fellini's thing he felt very romantic and…"

"Tore your clothes off, pushed you to the floor and made passionate love to you." Elisabeth suggested.

"On the contrary. He placed himself as comfortably as he could on the sofa and shared with me a beautiful story of his first unhappy love. Then he told me that his stressful experience taught him not to trust women. With an exception of his perfect mum obviously."

"Sounds like a mixture of Freud and Lolita-like stuff." Kitty said.

"Sounds impotent to me." said Elisabeth.

"In the end I got so fed up with his irksome voice and his soul that had never been appreciated properly that no matter how handsome he looked he couldn't attract me anymore. I think men like he have to work as bodyguards for male pop stars."

"Why?"

"They would act as a repellent for female fans. To think that I spent the whole evening on that bore, the mere idea drives me crazy! And now as punishment for my crime against myself I have to go to Great Littleton to enjoy lovely long walks across the fields or what's even worse long horse back rides. I've hated horses since my childhood. They're smelly and people look elegant on their backs only on the pictures of the Old Masters. Never mind! After all there are fifty two weekends in a year. I have plenty of chances."

"Funny name: Great Littleton." Elisabeth giggled.

"It's called "Great" because there're ten or so houses and a pub in it. The neighbouring Littleton is much smaller."

"Do they also have something like Tiny or Petite Littleton?" Mary asked, ecstatic with her joke.

"You would be surprised," was Lydia's gloomy answer.

"I think it's time for coffee." Jane said cheerfully and thought about Charles.

They moved into the kitchen where to their delight they found raspberry jelly and while Jane was engaged with the coffee the others scoffed the entire lot.


	2. Chapter 2

Kitty's cup was uneventful yet again.

Mary's one was full of romantic images.

Elisabeth had at least four male figures standing in either a fighting or a hunting position.

Lydia still had the promise of a tempestuous romance.

"When will I have it then?" Lydia asked impatiently. "And who the hell with?"

Jane didn't respond for a while and then said with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Very soon, it looks like. And although I can't tell you the name and address of your love of the century I think that one of us will introduce you to each other."

"How can you tell?"

"There're five dots around a tiny heart in the middle. If you're a dot above the

heart – which would be the most reasonable presumption – the second one from you is the closest to this romance thing."

"Second in what way?"

"I guess in the way we're sitting now."

"To the right or to the left?"

"Clockwise. Always clockwise." Jane said earnestly.

"Then the mysterious benefactor would be Mary." Lydia said.

But at that very moment Elisabeth returned to the kitchen and sat in the vacant chair before Mary. She was still clutching her mobile in her hand and smiled at something.

"Pat's picking me up in thirty minutes," she started but noticing the unusual silence she stopped abruptly, "what? What's wrong? Why are you staring at me? Did I suddenly grow a second nose on my face?"

"No," said Mary, "it's just that we didn't realise that you were second.

They started to explain to Elisabeth about Lydia's love-life prospects and although they spoke together in a noisy and unsynchronised chorus Elisabeth understood them immediately. She was always quick in grasping any information connected to love or sex.

"Easy," she said, "tomorrow you're coming to my hair salon and we'll find you somebody suitable there just like that."

She clicked her fingers showing exactly how easy that would be.

"And now tell me my future, please, because I need time to change and put on some make-up before Pat is here."

"You've already got two inches of paint on your face." Lydia said irritably.

"Anyway, who's Pat?"

"First of all, I'm not going to a party in my daytime make-up and secondly, Pat is nobody. I mean, he's somebody alright. Actually from what I've heard about his sexual abilities he's something as well. Unfortunately, he's my old friend so I'll never be able to check how much truth there is in the legends surrounding him. What else do you want to know? I met him in the days of my disastrous modelling career."

"Is he a model?"

"No. No! Absolutely not. He was just hanging around with the crowd. He works in King's College – lecturing something rather highbrowish. And by the way we're going to become neighbours very soon as it was he who recommended me a vacant

flat in his house."

"Is he loaded then? I suppose his accommodation would cost a fortune." Lydia asked.

"If there're millionaires working in the Universities I don't know them for sure," answered Elisabeth, "because usually they're poorer than church mice. Pat inherited his flat from his grandparents. His granddad was something big in art and the flat is simply stuffed with weird pictures. No, Lydia, don't ask me what the old man's name was, I don't know. They were his grandparents on his mother's side."

After that Lydia murmured something about boring stuffy University lecturers and lost interest in Pat. She regained it back though when Elisabeth continued her narrative about Pat's outstanding sex drive. The girls listened to her story with growing enthusiasm and at the end managed to wind themselves up to such extent that they couldn't wait to see the hero. He finally appeared and looked nothing they had imagined. They expected to see a striking hunk while in reality he was very slim even skinnier than Elisabeth with rather plain face. His nose was slightly crooked, his lips weren't luscious or whatever lips of sexual giants usually are. The only interesting feature was his eyes: they always smiled at you and looked as if their owner knew a thing or two about you (that is, if you were a woman). He came in and said "Hello!" with such ease as if they had been good friends for many years and although they still had doubts about his talents, they liked him instantly. Elisabeth in her turn kissed him lightly and said:

"Beannachtai na Feile Padraig!"

"What did you say?" Kitty whispered to Elisabeth when she thought that Pat couldn't hear her.

"I said something like: _Happy St Patrick Day!_ Why are you whispering?"

"I didn't know that you were Irish."

"I'm not: I'm three-quarter English and quarter Polish."

"Do you know the difference between St Patrick and the capital of Zimbabwe?" Pat asked quite randomly.

The girls were expecting anything but that so they looked at him in bewilderment. He told them the difference. It was terribly funny and terribly politically incorrect. Then he told them the difference between "sooner" and "later" and they laughed for nearly five minutes, as it was unbearably funny and horrendously obscene.

"Do you know the difference between a toilet bowl and a grand piano?" he asked when they finally stopped giggling.

They shook their heads ready for another joke but instead he sighed regretfully and said:

"That's a shame! And such nice girls too. I thought I would ask one of you to meet my parents but if you can't distinguish a toilet from piano I'm not sure that I want to do that."

"OK, it's time to go." Elisabeth said and then repeated that at least three times before she was heard.

Unfortunately the only person who paid attention to her words was Kitty.

"Why are you so tight?" she asked. "Are you afraid that your friend is becoming popular here?"

"I don't want him to become overly popular. I know him only too well." Elisabeth answered. "He doesn't have a bad reputation for nothing."

"What is it that good girls find so attractive in boys with a bad reputation?" Kitty said philosophically.

"I don't know. I've never been a good girl but I don't want anybody to be hurt. At

least, if he were to try to woo Lydia, I wouldn't mind, she is a one hundred per cent egocentric. His charm will be wasted on her."

And that was where Elisabeth was so wrong!

Lydia called her the next afternoon sounding very excited. That day was Elisabeth's day off, so she slept till two o'clock, which wasn't difficult at all as she returned home from the St Patrick's celebrations only at six in the morning. After a long soak in the bath she got the strength to cook herself a very late lunch and was enjoying her _Sausages Viardo_ when the telephone rang.

Elisabeth lifted the receiver and heard Lydia's angry voice.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, "I've been calling you for the last five hours."

"I've been sleeping."

"What, you were so drunk you didn't hear the telephone ringing?"

"No, I simply switched it off."

"Very inconsiderate of you. Anyway, stay at home, I'm coming over."

"I thought you were going to stay with your parents this weekend in – what's it called? Great Small something.

"Great Littleton. Never mind that. I cancelled my visit."

"Look, I've got a terrible hangover. I don't know what's so urgent that you want from me but can it wait till tomorrow at least?"

"No, it can't. As you've just said, it's urgent."

Until the last minute Elisabeth hoped that Lydia would change her mind but when she materialised on her doorstep with her overnight bag Elisabeth understood that there would be no mercy.

"You were right." Lydia said looking around her flat. "This place is a rat hole. It's a good thing that you're moving. Now about your friend, he's absolutely out of this world. I've got to see him. Do you want to know what happened yesterday with all the details?"

Elisabeth didn't but she didn't have much choice. Yesterday Pat played one of his dirty tricks and invited all the girls to the party. She sincerely didn't want them to go. That is she would be happy to have them with her if Pat was somewhere else. Far away. The rainforest, for example, or Russian steppe. She was really mad at him. She knew his tactics. He would do whatever he needed to get the girl that caught his eye and when he would get what he wanted from her he would dump her. Perhaps "dump" was the wrong word. Pat never dumped anybody. There were a number of women (and even Patrick's best pal Elisabeth had no idea how big this number was) who sincerely believed that one day he would be back. And everything in the garden would be lovely. So they waited and waited and he kept them deluded more than willingly and even returned to them occasionally making them happy for a bit and then miserable again for a long-long time. Elisabeth had become very much attached to her Brightonian friends and hated to see any of them hurt. Yet she couldn't do anything when Pat offered them to join his party. In vain she sent him warning and even threatening signals, he either didn't notice them or more likely pretended not to. She still hoped that the girls would refuse, some of them had to work tomorrow, but apart from Jane everyone accepted Pat's offer. Even lovestruck Mary saw nothing wrong in having a bit of fun and dance in company of Pat's merry friends. So Elisabeth dark as a thundercloud sat in Kitty's sitting room for at least half an hour while her friends made themselves presentable helping each other with make-up and exploring Kitty's wardrobe as if they were teenagers again. They were all more or less of the same build except for Mary who was build like any two of them together yet even she managed to squeeze herself into something that belonged to Kitty.

Then they finally packed into Pat's small BMW and rode to the place violating all the road regulations. But it was fun and even fuming Elisabeth began to smile at the end. The club was rented for the night by the members of some Irish band, which was on tour in England, their numerous friends and a few carefully chosen admirers. The spirit of the great St Patrick was definitely hovering about the place and everyone who was there was tipsy and happy. Some of the guests still filled themselves with Guinness and Murphy's but there were others who had already switched to stronger beverages.

(By the way do you know that even if you hate beer either for its taste, or smell, or both you can still make some use of it? Have you ever tried for example a duckling marinated in beer? It's beautiful and the only odour you can sense when you cook it is a pleasant aroma of freshly baked bread.)

"I've never seen anything like that," Mary shouted to Kitty gleefully some thirty minutes and three or four shots later."

"The last time I was in a nightclub was before I got married." Kitty answered equally as loud.

The music was deafening but the noise produced by the people who tried to overpower the music in order to communicate with each other was even more potent.

"I was in a nightclub less than a fortnight ago." Mary said.

"Really, where? You didn't tell me about it."

"It was in France when we were skiing. They had this stupid organised pub-crawl and my parents persuaded me to come with them and some other friends. I don't know how they felt but for me it was scary. Except for our party and some other losers the average age of participants was about twenty, twenty one at most, and I felt like a grandmother who had lost her marbles and was trying to get her granddaughter's boyfriend to go out on a date."

"Come on, a few years can't make such a difference!"

"Yes, they can." Mary said moodily, then she smiled again. "That nightclub was actually the last place we were planning to visit and there were two girls in it having a real fight. I went to the toilet and there were only two cubicles there: one for men and the other for women. There was a girl in front of me: a tiny thin slip of a girl whom even enormous heels didn't make much bigger. But she had a temper of a giant. She turned to me and complained that somebody had been occupying the toilet for the last ten minutes. Then she suddenly became agitated and started to bang loudly on the toilet door with her rather dirty tiny fists and then with her likewise unclean boots. In the end the door opened wide and some furious girl emerged from the cabin yelling at Thumbelina asking what her problem was. Without saying a word this aggressive Lilliputian raised her hand and slapped the girl from the cabin across her face. The girl lost her speech for a second while the little one lost her balance and flew into the cabin where she landed straight on the toilet seat. It didn't calm her down as even sitting there she continued to shout abuse and threats to the other girl."

Patrick danced in turn with each of the girls except for Elisabeth. He also fetched them drinks and introduced the girls to his friends. Seeing that they were really enjoying the party Elisabeth washed her hands resignedly and gave a full attention to her own affairs. She knew many people in the club and slept with a sufficient number of them as for the members of Irish band, they all were her old good friends. After kissing all of them she asked about their news and told them duly about the recent events of her life. All that took a lot of time and in order to keep her strength up she had to drink. And drink again. No wonder that after an hour or two of such intensive careof her well-being, Elisabeth began to experience frequent black-outs. She remembered though that at certain point she had a passionate sex with somebody in the storeroom but unfortunately she didn't remember whom with. Another thing she forgot but tried to remember painstakingly was whether she gave that person her telephone number. She sincerely hoped that she didn't. She still struggled with her memory while listening inattentively to Lydia's story which as a matter of fact wasn't even a story: just her aahs and oohs about Pat. Nothing took place between them except for a few dances they had and some sort of sketchy conversation. But as it happened it was enough for Lydia.

"Now," she said when she finished her fascinating story, "you'll ring him and invite here."

After saying that in a peremptory tone she filled her plate with sea-food pasta, which Elisabeth being a hospitable hostess and a kindly soul cooked, and began to eat in the most unruffled manner.

"Look," said Elisabeth, "I don't even know if he's at home. And I'm not sure at all that he hasn't had his own plans for tonight or that he really wants to come here."

"You'll find out." Lydia said serenely putting another forkful in her mouth.

Pat, I hate you, said Elisabeth to herself, dialling his number. Lydia demanded her to switch speakerphone on and when she heard a female voice on the other side of the line she knitted her brows sullenly. She was surprised to hear then that Elisabeth instead of speaking her usual husky and slightly uneducated voice said in exaggeratingly cultural manner:

"Good evening. May I speak to Dr Patrick Grady?"

"Is it urgent? He's very busy at the moment," the rather haughty reply followed but

Lydia relaxed at once: the voice was too mature to belong to a girlfriend.

"Not really. May I leave a message? Tell him, please, that Professor Sutton-Hirsch called and asked to call back. It's about one of his student. Thank you very much. Good night."

"Wait a minute," the voice commanded, "I'll call him."

Lydia stifled a nervous giggle when she heard the woman shouting in the distance: "Patrick, it's for you. Professor Sutton-Hirsch about your student!"

"Yes, Professor Sutton…erm…Hirsch." Patrick answered eventually. "How can I help?"

"Yes, there're some points I'd like you to enlighten me on." Elisabeth said in the same unpleasant and artificial tone. "Can you come now or am I asking too much?"

"No. Of course, I'll come. I've been a little busy but it can wait. Nothing is more important than approaching exams."

"Very well. See you soon then." Elisabeth said icily and rung off.

"You're something!" Lydia said with respect. "Is he coming? Has he understood where to? Do you think he recognised you? Why have you spoke in such an idiotic way with that woman? Speaking of which who's she, his mum?"

"Yes. And I'm not very popular with her. So if I'd call and tell her that Elisabeth and her love-sick idiot of a friend both want her son for a chat and a following f*** I don't think she would let us talk to him."

"You're not getting any f*** from him!" Lydia said indignantly. "Only I will and that will be great!"

"You bet you will!" Elisabeth sighed. "Do you really want that? There're so many nice guys around. Why are you so keen on this one?"

"You're jealous!"

"I'm not! I'm doing it for you! Oh well…perhaps you're right: what's wrong could come out of the one-night stand? If that would happen to Mary then I would have a reason to worry. But you're very much down to earth just like I. So, enjoy!"

Patrick stormed into Elisabeth's flat like a medium size tornado.

"You're genius, Prof Sutton-Whatever," he exclaimed kissing her, "how did you know that I was tortured and slowly murdered… or was it vice versa? You have an amazing sixth sense! I think that's because you're in love with me. Admit it, don't be shy."

"Hi, Lydia, what a nice surprise," he said noticing Elisabeth's visitor at last, "how are you? Did you enjoy the party? Look, girls, you've already saved me once, what about doing it all over again? I'm starving! My mum's on some new crazy diet again so we're having only raw vegetables the whole day and I'm definitely not a rabbit."

"Oh no! – Elisabeth said in desperation." I can't cook for a third time in a row.

"Feed me!" Pat said giving a poor imitation of a killer-plant from _The Little Shop of Horrors_. "Feed me and then you both can do whatever you want with me. I'm all yours."

Elisabeth noticed unhappily that he mentioned them both again. That meant that he wasn't going to leave Lydia alone. Elisabeth knew many of his former girlfriends but it was the first time when he decided to go for one of her own friends. Drat you, Pat, she thought and went into the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later she managed to produce a very nice meal from various leftovers. Lydia joined Patrick: she was too nervous to remember about pasta she had just an hour ago.

"You know," said Pat later, "you have the great potentials to become an excellent wife. I never understood how you managed to combine so different features. Theoretically you have to be like I: an old bachelor who hates cooking and sleeping in his own bed."

"I would love not to cook all the time," said Elisabeth bitterly, "but I'm not allowed to do so."

"Rubbish!" Pat said. "I was watching you today as I watched you many times before, you take pleasure in cooking. Very much so."

"You know what they say in such situations: if you're raped – relax and try to enjoy." Elisabeth answered.

"Tell us something funny." Lydia asked Pat, she got bored of not taking part in their exchange. "You know so many anecdotes! I love anecdotes but I never remember any of them."

And so he told her a couple of anecdotes and then listened patiently to some stories of Lydia's life and even asked questions sounding genuinely interested. Elisabeth left him to his devices and hoping that Lydia would see through Pat she went into the kitchen where she decided charitably to make some dessert for them. She hadn't started yet when the telephone rang. Unknown male voice asked her. Being preoccupied with her thoughts of the pair in her sitting room she lost vigilance and answered realising too late that it could be her yesterday's adventure.

It was.

What was even worse that he told her his name when she picked up a receiver but she missed it and now she had no idea how to address him. They had quite a heated discussion, with him explaining why she had to meet him somewhere down town at once and her giving her reasons why she couldn't do that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or during the entire week.

I hope he'll chill out and forget me and my telephone number at the end, Elisabeth thought crushing walnuts.

When she returned to the room Lydia and Pat were too busy with each other to listen to her complaints about her miserable life. At that particular moment Patrick told Lydia something presumably hilarious as she artistically performed hysterical laughter.

"I chose the ugly girl," he continued his story, "as I knew that the pretty one wouldn't go with me. So we went into the thicket…"

He noticed Elisabeth and stopped, showing no sign of joy at seeing her. Lydia wasn't ecstatic about Elisabeth joining them either.

"So, what happened then?" she asked playfully ignoring Elisabeth.

"I took her panties off there and she didn't even pretend that she was against it."

"And…" said Lydia thinking that she wouldn't be against it either if she were in the girl's place.

"There was a big clump of nettles behind those bushes and I knew that. So I pushed her in it."

"What a childish thing to do," said Lydia slowly not being quite sure that she liked the story.

"Well, I was just six at the time."

"Who wants tea?" Elisabeth asked tartly. "I made some cookies."

"Elisabeth, you're an angel!" Patrick said rising from his seat. "No tea for me unfortunately. Have to run or mum will become suspicious. She came for her seasonal shopping round and is leaving London the day after tomorrow. So back to normal soon. May I have one or two cookie for the road?"

"You've simply got to bring in your stupid tea." Lydia said crossly when he left. "If it wasn't for you he would hang about longer."

She stayed overnight and they spent half of it talking about Patrick. Lydia wanted to know everything Elisabeth could remember about him and instead of being revolted by his fickleness with other women she seemed to be even more attracted to him.

During the following week she called every day demanding Elisabeth's help to bring her and Pat together again and driving Elisabeth crazy. Elisabeth had her own problems: Rick, that was the name of her mysterious pal from the storeroom, instead of cooling off as she hoped he would, came on Monday into her salon. He was rather handsome but definitely not her type and she had no intention to continue their fling. Regretfully he didn't see it that way. He became her personal stalker. He wasn't intimidating and he didn't do anything drastic, he just was _there _and that drove her mad. Wherever she went he followed her with a dog-like expression on his face. In the morning he waited for her sitting on the steps in front of the salon sometimes with flowers, more often without them. In the evening he strolled for hours under her windows whistling softly some lyrical tunes. Elisabeth didn't know what to do. She tried to talk to him, she shouted, she promised to make his life a real hell, she begged, she almost cried. Nothing worked. She told him that she wasn't a woman for him, that what he truly needed was a nice decent girl who would appreciate his wonderful qualities and faithfulness. Don't you see, she kept saying, I'm not that girl. You can call me slut if you want and most likely that's what I am. I like men and what's more I like different men. What I hate is commitment. Understand?

He clearly didn't. He still appeared everywhere he could find her and answered monotonously to all her reasons that she was an angel only she hadn't realised it yet.

As if poor Elisabeth didn't have enough trouble with Rick one of the twins, unfortunately not the one she would like to see, was seeking her company with almost equal persistence. With two admirers like them her chances to have normal private life were microscopic. Rick and Ben simply frightened any man away. Add to that the Lydia's whining and her determination to get Patrick with Elisabeth's assistance and you will understand why Elisabeth's existence became impossible.

It was two weeks after St Patrick's Day when Lydia called her and told her that she had a brilliant idea.

"Bring him to me." she said excitedly.

"Who?"

Elisabeth just met a very nice and a very young man and was full of doubts like: To Do Or Not To Do. She really fancied him but the fact that he was eight years younger freaked her out. She started to scrupulously examine her face in the mirror looking for wrinkles, skin discoloration and other signs of ageing because she became convinced of her growing old. Otherwise why would she be interested in a mere boy? She was never attracted to younger men before.

"I'm talking about Patrick, of course, who else?" Lydia said with annoyance. "I will cook a great meal. What does he like more beef or pork? Because I have very nice beefsteaks and could make him excellent _Bœuf de la Campagne_.

"My idea is," Lydia continued, "that you'll bring him to Brighton where by pure chance you'll find yourself in front of my house. You will give him a good performance of genuine surprise and then you offer him to pop in for a cup of coffee. But as I said it had to look natural and sort of accidental."

"Look," said Elisabeth impatiently, "are you totally out of your wits? With the Pats of this world you don't behave like that. What you do is ring him and say: "Here's my address. Come and have me as a dessert after the beefsteaks!""

"I can't do that." Lydia exclaimed in horror. "Why, I will rather put my head into the toilet bowl than say anything like that to a man I feel emotionally attracted to."

"That's exactly my point. You can't be emotionally attracted to Pat because you can't expect anything back. He's not the emotional type. Instead of heart he has a dick. From what I've heard he's one of the most gifted bonkers in the world. So use him, get maximum pleasure you can and move on!"

"You don't understand him. Nobody does!"

"You're crazy. Anyway, I can't come to Brighton tomorrow: I have a date with my toy boy. It wasn't easy for me to get it and I'm not going to sacrifice my own love life because of your whims. God knows I haven't got much of a love life recently."

"You can bring him along as well." Lydia said generously. "It would be even better if there would be four of us."

Actually, it's not a bad idea, thought Elisabeth dialling Pat's number, Tim won't be so tense in company and if in the end I'll decide that I don't want him after all, it would be much easier to chuck him without offending him.

"Do you have any particular plans for tomorrow?" she asked Pat as soon as he answered the phone.

"Not yet. Are you having anything appealing in mind?"

"Well, I'm going to Brighton with my new interest and want you to come with me."

"Whatever for? I didn't know that you like threesome. And why go to Brighton for that?"

In fact it would be a foursome, only not in a way you mean, Elisabeth thought but out aloud she said:

"Nothing of that kind. We'll just walk along the seafront for a bit, then have a meal somewhere – that sort of things."

"And you need me for?.."

"Oh, for God sake!" Elisabeth exploded. "It's all your fault. If you haven't behaved like a show-off bastard with my friends everything will be alright."

"So what do you want me to do now?" Patrick asked quietly.

"The best of all would be if you would have sex with Lydia so that she'd leave me alone."

"I'll think about it." Pat said.

The weather that week was beautiful. Sun was shining. Everything which supposed to bloom was blooming. The air was fresh and exciting just like it has to be at the beginning of each spring when nature generously promises every child of hers happiness and love knowing deep inside that nothing really will happen. Even Elisabeth strolling along the Brighton's beautiful promenade allowed herself to be captivated by romantic mood and smiled to the warm beams of sun. She decided that she liked Tim enough to give him a try.

Then there was a farce in front of Lydia's building with both her and Pat acting so artificially that they left poor Tim completely baffled with what was going on. Lydia was even worse with her exaggerated surprise and pretence that if she expected somebody indeed, that certainly wasn't them. She also looked extremely stupid in her long white streaming dress which was probably great for some posh black tie party but totally out of place for the quiet night in.

"I've decided to make _Bucharest Pie_ instead of _Bœuf de la Campagne_," she whispered nervously to Elisabeth as if it was something vital. "I think it sounds more exotic and romantic."

If Eileen's main task was to impress Pat with her cooking talents she certainly succeeded as both he and Tim had two helpings each. Then Pat promised to teach them how to mix a new cocktail he invented recently and they decided to move to the kitchen. Eileen left her drawing room first, Tim was behind her but as soon as he was outside the door, Pat said: "Tell Eileen to fetch all the drinks she had at home and give me a minute. I need to have a few words with Elisabeth alone. We'll be with you in no time" and rather unceremoniously shut the door in Tim's face. Elisabeth expected him to say that he wanted to sneak away or something like that but instead of it he took her in his arms pretty tight and kissed her lips both tenderly and persistently. It was so unforeseen that she responded to his kiss. It was their first kiss although they knew each other for shedloads of years.

"What was that for?" she asked when he let her go.

"You know how they do consolation prizes in some competitions? So that the losers wouldn't feel too bad about themselves. That was your prize."

"Why do I need a consolation prize?"

"Because I'm going to pull tonight and you haven't got a chance with your adolescent friend. By the way, if you value my opinion, you're a very good kisser."

You too, Elisabeth said mechanically and then she realised with some shock that she really enjoyed a new experience and that was wrong. They were long-term pals and that was that. No sex, please. There were a few times when they had to share the same bed because of lack of sleeping places but it always was like sleeping with a girlfriend at a slumber party: safe and not stirring. Now she wasn't sure anymore and felt a bit uncomfortable.


	3. Chapter 3

All those thoughts however disappeared after the first glass of Pat's cocktail.

After the second one Elisabeth went into a state which she herself usually described as "a bit more and I'll start singing".

Nevertheless after the third glass instead of singing she began to urge Tim to take her home because… because she had gotthe urge. In vain others tried to persuade her to stay: Pat enticing her with dancing which she loved very much, especially when she was plastered, Tim mumbling that it was too early and what a shame it was to break such great company and Lydia offering dessert. She made a chocolate pudding and was rather proud of it.

Regretfully Elisabeth was in such condition when all her nice qualities, whatever they were, took a break giving place to stubbornness with the capital letter A (for ass). So while Tim was saying a silent but a very heartbreaking farewell to the chocolate pudding Elisabeth was struggling with her jacket. Its sleeves became very tight and she couldn't slip her arms into them. To tell the truth what she mistook for the sleeves were in reality her pockets so no wonder she couldn't put her jacket on. At the end Tim came out of his stupor, helped her and they left Lydia's hospitable place. If Elisabeth would have an ability to notice the things she would become aware of the fact that there were three of them leaving: Patrick said Lydia that he wanted to see Elisabeth safe to the station. Elisabeth could also be surprised to see him later side by side with her on the train but as it was said before: she was beyond comprehension. Much later in her flat Tim helped her out of her jacket. This exercise for some unknown reason aroused him so much that he began to kiss her both hungrily and chaotically while Elisabeth was busy with keeping balance on her unsteady feet…

"So how was that with Tim?" Kitty asked smiling shyly.

All five of them were sitting in Mary's flat. It was packed with furniture, rugs, pictures and other stuff even more than Elisabeth's. Although there was no dust seen anywhere and the carpet was vacuum-cleaned impeccably the room in whole gave an impression of being untidy and disorderly.

"I don't know." Elisabeth said curtly. "I didn't do it with him."

"At least I think that I didn't," she added after some moody reflection, "thanks to Pat I was thoroughly pissed. Not that I don't remember anything: I remember how he tried to strip me. I'm not sure about how I got to bed but I definitely recollect him running to and fro between the door and my bed and trying to decide whether to leave or stay with me in case if I would regain my consciousness.

"So…"

"So what?"

"Did he stay?2

"Or did he leave?" Mary joined Kitty.

"I just don't know! In the morning he wasn't there, that's for sure, but I can't swear that nothing happened because whatever physical evidences there were – or weren't – I destroyed them during proper soak in bath which I took on autopilot when I woke up. Anyway what about you, Lydia? I haven't seen Pat for the last two weeks."

"And you were avoiding me as well. I rung you numerous times trying to catch you at home because when I tried your salon they told me that you wouldn't be there for days and days and they had no idea when you would actually be back."

"From the way you say it now," laughed Elisabeth, "I can see that you spoke to my best friend Leo, the one whose boyfriend I sort of seduced. I told you all about it, remember? And I wasn't avoiding you. I spent two weeks in Bristol, something came up unexpectedly. Bill and his crew were shooting some posh version of the "Full Monty" there and their hairdresser got ill, so they called our Maxim and asked him to sublet me, so to speak, for two weeks. Maxim was delighted hoping that the advertisement of such kind would attract to us even more clientele from the movie industry (as if we don't have enough) and for me it was a nice change from the worries of my love life and the exchange of contracts. I returned today and went straight here."

"I hoped you had some news for me about Pat." Lydia said petulantly. "I didn't hear from him since you took him away from me."

"I didn't. I was sure that he would walk us to the station and then come back."

Elisabeth thought that her last sentence sounded ridiculous. Pat was anything but devotee of nice long healthy walks and if she would be sober when they were leaving she would explain to Lydia that he had no intention to return.

"Well, he didn't. I waited for him like a fool for hours and he didn't even bother to call."

"All men are bastards." Elisabeth said philosophically looking around the table.

It resembled some picture from Ye Olde times. There was plenty of everything on it and each dish looked really delicious. Mary wasn't a good cook. In fact she was perhaps the worst cook if not in the world then at least amongst single females of her age. Her mother on the contrary was a genuine culinary expert. So instead of making something unappetising, burnt and crunchy on the outside yet raw and tough inside Mary charged her mother with the task of preparing meal for her friends. Mary's mum felt both flattered and grateful because there's nothing sweeter than to be of use to your grown up child especially in the area where you can shine. So her mother made a real feast for them with at least ten different dishes.

"Are you going back to Bristol?" Mary asked Elisabeth while generously filling her plate. "And what about Bill? Are you an item once more?"

"For your first question: no, their stylist is back and they're done anyway. But they sent me a beautiful invitation for the next weekend to some gala with reception."

"I know, I've read about that!" Kitty cried excitedly. "You lucky thing! You'll see all the celebrities, you'll mingle with the great movie stars. Omygod! You'll probably see David Tennant! I wish you didn't tell us about that, now I want to go there too!

"Can you take us with you?" Lydia asked in a businesslike manner.

"No. I have an invitation for two only."

"And you obviously go with your Bill." Lydia said sarcastically.

"I do not. I go with Maxim, yay! I was stupid enough to boast about that in the salon and he overheard me. So he offered to accompany me to the gala and I didn't have much choice but to accept the honour of having him as my date for the night. We will both enjoy it immensely. I with the worn-out crooked-legged knight in a shining armour of frills and gems and Maxim who hates women. As much as he hates men, to answer your unasked question."

"Whom does he like?" Mary asked naively.

"Sheep?" Lydia suggested.

"Maybe. He resembles very much of an ageing hornless ram. By the way about

Bill: we are through and that's official. He was too busy with a new face on their crew while I worked in Bristol and for all I could judge it was genuine enough."

"Poor Elisabeth." Mary said pitifully.

"Oh never mind, easy come easy go. Tell me better how your progress is."

"Well," said Mary slightly blushing, "we're getting really close."

"How close?" Elisabeth asked. "Is he already holding hands with you in cinema?"

"We haven't been to cinema yet." Mary said with regret. "But I invited him for tea last Wednesday after the match and he came."

"Or dear!" Elisabeth said in desperation. "Have you at least kissed?"

"No! I don't want to rush in to anything. I want to enjoy every minute of our relationship. And I do enjoy it!"

"You rush when you have sex with a man before asking his name. Otherwise it's not rushing at all. And by the by what sort of relationship we're talking about?"

"Normal relationship: when people communicate and have common interests and talk."

"Play tennis."

"Yes, and play tennis. He's my partner now and he's the best. He plays really good and he's also very kind and patient when I'm making mistakes. Last time we played he even offered me his drink because I forgot to fetch something for myself. It was very sweet of him."

"Good. You can regard that as almost having oral sex. Are you still running outside in the mornings to see him… coincidentally?"

"Of course, not," said Mary who still did that and then added, "I'm going to bring you main course although some of you don't deserve it. I don't want to point out who this person is but I can tell you, Elisabeth Sutton, that you've been absolutely beastly to me!"

"What about you, Jane?" said Lydia. "Still leading blameless life?"

Jane smiled lightly and nodded. She couldn't bring herself to the point of telling the girls about Charles. And there wasn't much to tell about anyway. She saw him only twice during the last month, both times they had passionate sex, both times she couldn't think of anything else for many days to follow. Strangely enough she didn't feel any guilt. At home she was the same exemplary mother, wife and "the lady of the house" as Mrs Bucket would say. Her husband was too busy or too uninterested to notice anything. He was content with having supply of clean and ironed clothes, nice meals and rest in front of TV with or without paper.

In some ways Jane's was an ideal husband. He was a good provider, he didn't drink, he didn't even smoke, he was OK with children and if he didn't work, he was at home, sometimes even doing something helpful. At the same time he didn't make any attempts to keep Jane happy. She didn't feel special. He didn't consider her special. Their relationship lost its spark. No wonder that Jane fell for charms of the first Don Juan whose life path crossed hers by chance.

"Good for you," said Lydia and then turned to Mary. "Where is my coffee," she demanded.

"In a mo," Mary answered cheerfully tasting the delicious pudding made by her mother.

"Make coffee first and then you can continue stuffing yourself to the end of days," said Lydia ungraciously.

Mary gave her plate a longing glance and went obediently to the kitchen.

"Who's first, then?" Jane asked when the coffee cups were duly dried.

"Doh!" Elisabeth said sardonically. "Who do you think?"

Lydia's cup was unreadable.

"What do you mean, you don't see anything?" Lydia said crossly. "Have you forgotten how important it's for me? Why it's so black? What does it mean?"

"It means that you don't know how to drink coffee." Elisabeth said mockingly.

"Thank you for your cooperation!" Lydia barked.

"Or perhaps, it's your broken heart – it's so black and gloomy that when it cries it sheds black tears. Do you see any black splashes around, Jane? Those would be tears of Lydia's poor heart."

"Actually, yes, there is a drop or two here." Jane admitted straight-facedly.

Lydia grabbed her cup from Jane's hand and shouted:

"I'm in distress but all you can do is laughing at me. I hate you both."

"Come on, Lydia, cut the crap." Elisabeth said. "Your heart isn't broken and even if it is, it's entirely your fault. You're not a romantic type. Remind that yourself every day next week before breakfast and everything will be back to normal before the end of Sunday."

"You're unbelievably cold and heartless person, Elisabeth," said Lydia.

"I'm not heartless, I'm rational."

"Oh yeah? And what, may I ask, would a rational you do in my place?"

"I'm not in your place, thank you very much, but being me I would go to Pat and tell him: we're good friends, so do me a favour: f*** me, please, I really need it. It's not a big deal for you and it will make me happy."

"What I hate most of all," said Lydia while the others watched Elisabeth in respectful silence, "that it will work. For you, I mean. That if you ask him he really would shag you. It's terrible! And unfair. Promise me that you will never-ever ask him to do that."

Elisabeth giggled first. A mere suggestion of her shagging Pat was laughable. Then she remembered Pat's kiss and hesitated.

"Elisabeth," said Jane who was studying Elisabeth's cup, "you're heading towards troublesome times."

"Oh no." Elisabeth sighed. "I had enough already with my stalkers and that idiotic baby boy Tim. Can't a girl have some peace and quiet? By the way, last time you guaranteed me four men and I only had three. Where is the fourth one?"

"I thought you just said that you had enough."

"True, I did, but I still feel a bit robbed. God knows I am not a greedy woman but if I'm promised four men, I want my four men and not a one less."

"Whatever," said Jane stretching her hand for Kitty's cup, "you wanted some action, Kitty? Here's your action. You're climbing up the volcano which is at the point of erupting."

"What does that mean in plain English?" Kitty asked. "Does it mean that something in my life is going to change? Will I have a tiny bit of an innocent romance?"

"Mercy!" said Elisabeth rolling her eyes. "Another innocent romantic."

"It means that something's going to explode," Jane explained, "and it doesn't say here that it's going to be nice."

"Oh dear!" Kitty sighed anxiously while Jane took Mary's cup.

"Oh dear!" she repeated after Kitty. "Another problematic cup. It looks like today is a bad day for coffee reading."

"What do you see? Tell me, please. Jane, what's wrong with my cup?" Mary squawked.

"I see nothing but tears." Jane answered and thought: "I'm not going to have a look into my cup. I don't want to see any tears in mine. No way!"

Yet she couldn't resist a temptation and cast a glance at the dregs in her cup. There were no tears there. Only slight waves like one can see on the surface of the summer sea when it stretches lazily after having a lovely nap under the warm morning sun. Everything's going to be alright, thought Jane happily not noticing a tiny shadow behind the sea of the waves, a shadow which could easily grow into a thundercloud.

"Let's talk about something pleasant." Mary said decisively. "We don't see each other often enough to spoil our evenings by sinking into doom and gloom."

"Good girl!" Elisabeth said. "Let's talk about food. I really like those marinated aubergines. Can you write me down a recipe? I just love pickles."

"About that party, Elisabeth," said Mary, "what are you going to wear?"

"That's a very good question. The point is – I don't know. But then it doesn't matter much, does it? Whatever I'll put on, there will be somebody looking exactly the same. So why bother?"

"I always thought that everyone looks totally different at such events." Kitty said.

"No, this is the problem: part of them come half- or three quarters-naked and because they all are stripped with the help of more or less the same designers they all look like twins. Or triplets, or whatever. When you take a close look at the photos of some star event in any fashionable magazine you see how identical they are: the same cuts, the same shape of décolleté and heaps of long skirts slashed here and there to show legs (regardless whether they're excellent or not at all) up to armpits.

"I take it that you're not going to strip?" Lydia asked.

"I don't have to do it. I'm not a young bright hopeful who wants to be discovered. Neither I'm an old cow who tries to be evergreen for her money."

"What about the other part? What do they wear?"

"Rugs. Not literally but there are some that can put a glittery scarlet skirt with a pink top. Then they will attach an artificial red flower the size of a fully-grown cabbage to the most inappropriate place to give a performance of an "innocent spring", no matter how old they are. This category also adores old grandma's sequins and cheap plastic jewellery. I don't know who styles their hair but those people had to be jailed for life."

"What about this two-piece?" Mary suddenly asked.

"You want me to wear this?" Elisabeth asked incredulously.

The costume she was wearing looked formal yet chic and it became her very much. It was of a pleasant shade of light green with tight trousers and very narrow sleeves of a waist-length jacket. It accentuated her slim figure and in particular her long and impeccable legs, the best feature she had which in past almost made her a model.

"How much do you like it?" Mary asked cautiously.

"Quite a lot but it's too noticeable. Soon I won't be able to wear it because of colour. Why are you asking?" Elisabeth said with interest.

"I can try to turn it into something even more noticeable." Mary said.

Mary was very clever with her needlework. It probably was in her genes: her granddad was a ladies' tailor and a good one too. When he was alive he was responsible for all Mary's clothes and she remembered a wonderful dress he made her for her very first date. Her girlfriend wanted to introduce Mary to her brother and Mary was thrilled because most of the girls at school had already boyfriends and she didn't. She was also horrified that he might not like her and wanted to look her best. At that time she was already rather chubby but grandfather was a real wizard: he made the front and the back of the dress out of black silk while on its sides he put black and white checked gussets and because of that she looked much thinner. During her medical school years Mary knitted jumpers and made her own skirts and dresses but later she grew incredibly lazy and took her sewing machine out of a cupboard once in a blue moon.

Now she felt a surge of energy and creativity.

"And how I'll go home if you won't be able to finish it?" Elisabeth asked caustically, watching Mary boldly cutting her jacket.

"I'll give you my sweater." Mary said gleefully. "The biggest and baggiest one."

From her bedroom wardrobe she took an old summer dress of a fiery orange pattern and started to order her guests around.

"Why do you need starch?" Elisabeth asked. "My gran used it for making some beverage, she called it _kissel _or something like that. Have you ever tried _kissel_?

Two kilos of starch later she tried her improved jacket on.

"Tiger Lily." her friends whispered together in admiration.

I'm not good in describing clothes therefore I can only say that Elisabeth indeed looked like some exotic flower, flamboyant yet fragile.

"Wow!" Elisabeth said. "Wo-ow! I will have to change a shade of my hair colour and I can revive my old orange shoes. Thanks girls. I look great."

"What I like in our Elisabeth is her modesty." Lydia said.

"Do you know what Maxim's going to wear?" Mary asked Elisabeth suddenly. "What if he would decide to put on some Garry Glitter kind of clothes?"

"Alternatively he can appear in a canary yellow jacket, red tie and vivid blue shoes." Lydia added maliciously. "You'll be the brightest couple there and I don't refer to your intellectual capacity."

"You forgot the trousers." Elisabeth said impassively.

"No, _I_ didn't, otherwise you would see my underwear, but your Maxim instead of trousers will be wearing long silk underpants with red miniature hearts."

"Cool with me." Elisabeth said in the same indifferent tone.

"Really, Elisabeth, have you any idea what he's going to wear?"

"Dinner jacket, naturally. It's a formal party which means that while women will make total asses from themselves crippling their legs on 10-inch heels and freezing in their strapless dresses men will enjoy smart and comfortable look. As usual."

"You know what I think?" Lydia said. "I think that Tim didn't screw you after all. You're turning into a hard-core feminist and with women of your type it only happens when they've been deprived of good old sex for sufficient period of time."

When Elisabeth's taxi stopped near Maxim's house he was already outside waiting and virtually hopping with impatience. To give him a credit he looked very imposing even if in slightly retired-gigolo style. When they stepped out of the car Elisabeth saw hundreds of bystanders around the entrance and felt that they were impressed by her. "I fancy who they believe we are," she thought, "some filthy rich producer with his bright and gorgeous secretary slash mistress or some influential director with his former supermodel wife. I bet that they've already forgotten that we've came here in a cab!"

Before coming to the party Elisabeth hoped that she would be able to lose her compulsory partner but when they entered the building she swiftly changed her mind and clung to Maxim as a baby-monkey to its mother. She didn't feel comfortable in such a big crowd of total strangers. As a matter of fact that was the chief reason for her failure in acting or on the catwalk. So she clenched to Maxim's elbow and was terribly grateful that he didn't make any attempts to desert her and also for him looking so cool and relaxed.

Much later sitting at the table in a company of some obscure guests she finally became her usual self again. Their neighbours were fairly young people, rather excited to be invited to the event and willing to enjoy every minute of their presence there. Soon Elisabeth felt as good as a fish in a water making people laugh and look happy. She was a natural entertainer on a condition that she knew her audience. Relaxing in a circle of her new friends Elisabeth didn't look much about her though there was a lot to see. Numerous tables were occupied by the stars of A to Z categories who ate, drank, chatted and laughed. Real and faked jewels sparkled competing in radiance with glistening eyes and brilliant smiles. Elisabeth wasn't a snob. She didn't care that at the table to the left of her sat surrounded by the agents and friends The Pop Star himself. Yes, yes, the one whose pinned on the wall photo you can find in practically every maiden's bedroom. And to the right of Elisabeth there was a small constellation of soap-opera's idols including the sexiest of the sexiest actress and her current partner The Heart Throb of the Soap World of the Year.

Elisabeth also wasn't aware of the fact that for the last half an hour or so she became a subject of attention from somebody who was sitting not far away in the darkest and quietest corner of the enormous hall. This somebody sat there in the company of his wife and a few close people who were almost as famous as he. And he – the man who watched Elisabeth fixedly and with such an interest – was nobody else but Superstar. We all know him. He's mentioned in press virtually every day. He's constantly chased by media, producers, actors, directors and publishers, each of them hoping to make a bit of money out of him and his success. Photos of his houses in the different parts of the world are constantly on the covers of glossy magazines, we know who his favourite designer is and what food he likes most of all. And if you don't remember or somehow missed that valuable piece of information I can tell you that his favourite dish is _Sturgeon Nouveau. _


	4. Chapter 4

Superstar was married and divorced many times. His current wife was half his age, topped the list of the sexiest women of the year and still felt insecure. Her beautiful and arrogant face was shadowed with anxiety while her big passionate dark eyes shifted watchfully from one woman's face to another in search of a possible rival. At some point Elisabeth got into her focus but wasn't considered a strong opponent. Elisabeth standing looked spectacular but now she was sitting and Superstar's Wife couldn't see much of her except for the bare shoulders and face. Shoulders were elegant but nothing outstanding while the face was just attractive, not more. In other words from the wife's point of view she wasn't a danger and you can imagine her surprise when she heard Superstar asking his neighbour:

"Do you know the people around that table?"

"Hardly," said one of Superstar's companions, a well-known British producer, "although I think I've seen one of them around. Who you're interested in?"

"Do you see that couple: the older man with the hairdo of young Tom Jones and a blond woman on his left? I'm interested in the woman." Superstar answered without any regards to his other half's feelings.

"No. I've never seen them before although I have to admit that his face looks familiar to me. Do you want to find out who they are?"

"Yes."

"Darling," the wife said with the dangerous tingle in her beautiful haughty voice, "what do you need these horrible people for?"

"Just curious, dear," he answered absentmindedly, patting her hand.

Elisabeth danced with Maxim who was very gracious to offer her a first dance and then with every single man from their table. When she stood up for the first time the Superstar's wife fixed her a thorough appraisal. She didn't like what she saw. On the contrary Superstar did and he had no intention to hide it. She liked that even less.

"I'm bored," she said, "all these events are so monotonous and similar. And all these people are so primitive and ghastly. Let's go home."

"Poor baby, are you tired?" Superstar asked with exaggerated care.

"Yes."

"Then go. Anton will see you back to the hotel. Take a long soothing bath and go straight to bed. You do look a bit weary."

"And what about you?" she asked flexing as a snake before attack.

"I'll stay for a while if you don't mind. I haven't yet met all the people I intended to."

"Then I'll stay too. Good wife doesn't abandon her husband." she smiled caustically.

If her reply disappointed her he didn't show.

"Fancy a dance?" he asked and not waiting for her answer raised from his seat with an air of a man who always gets what he wants in the end.

They danced in a close proximity to Elisabeth and her partner in spite of the Superstar's wife's attempts to keep him away from the girl as far as possible. Nevertheless being a resourceful person (without that you don't have any chances to make it big in Hollywood) Superstar found the way to meet Elisabeth and Maxim. One of his lieutenants introduced them while the other danced with his spouse. Maxim nearly fainted when Superstar addressed him and while he regained his consciousness Elisabeth got the honour of a dance with mega celebrity. During the three minutes that followed Superstar charmed her shamelessly so that even more sophisticated woman than Elisabeth would be flattered if not totally entranced. Watching them Superstar's wife got seriously alarmed and after they finished their dance followed her husband everywhere not giving him a moment of freedom.

Next morning all the workers of Maxim's salon and all the customers which were present at the time had a real shock when Superstar showed himself in. Maxim who saw him first rushed towards most unexpected but at the same time most welcomed visitor.

"Forgive my impertinence," said the eminent guest, "I can see that you're packed but my hair badly needs some trimming and so I hope against hopes that you will take me on such short notice."

Maxim didn't say a word just wagged his tail frantically. It was clear that he was ready not just trim Superstar's hair, but also cut his toenails, wash his underwear and floss his teeth.

"Take a seat and…" Maxim was going to say "and I will personally serve you" but being as quick-witted as the famous ancient Greek hero he said instead: "take a seat and I'll take care of everything."

"Elisabeth," he called out louder that was needed.

Superstar nodded approvingly.

"Elisabeth," Maxim yelped on the top of his voice encouraged by the sign of royal appreciation, "Elisabeth, are you busy right now? I need your help."

"I'm doing Ms Welwyngarten's lowlights." Said Elisabeth enjoying the situation.

"Leo will swap with you."

In some movies the only touch of hero's hair makes a heroine feel both stirred and shaken, but regrettably the Superstar's hair didn't have that amazing quality. As a matter of fact he didn't have much hair but Elisabeth was a true master of scissors. Also she was rather ambitious and to make a good haircut out of practically nothing was a nice challenge.

"Not bad, my girl," Maxim said grudgingly when she had finished, "why, he even looks ten years younger," he whispered into her ear a moment later.

That wasn't an exaggeration and Superstar looked both pleased and amused. He planned to shower Elisabeth with compliments regardless of result. Now he could say sincerely:

"Elisabeth, you're a wizard. I owe you one," he looked again in the mirror and continued, "may I buy you a dinner tonight?"

Girls will die when I'll tell them, Elisabeth thought, especially Mary. She adores him. She has all his movies at home.

At that moment the swinging doors of the salon opened and everybody inside it saw a breathtaking mirage: Superstar's spouse in aura of her outstanding beauty, outrageously expensive clothes and a cloud of immortal Channel N5.

"Ready, darling?" the wife asked showing her magnificent teeth in a Hollywood smile. "You look great. Such work deserves a major tip."

She gave Elisabeth a special glance she had for her servants, drivers and many other people outside her social circle. In short, she eyed Elisabeth like some trash which one would prefer to ignore but couldn't because it lay in untidy heap right in one's way.

Some time later a big box of chocolates was delivered for Elisabeth to the salon. She didn't like sweets generally but these ones were excellent. At some point she was even sorry that she shared them with the others. There was a tiny card attached to the box in which Superstar named the restaurant and the time he was expecting her there.

They both enjoyed the evening a lot and not for entirely different reasons. The Superstar was a great companion: clever, sophisticated and witty while Elisabeth who laughed heartily to all his jokes entertained him with funny stories of her life and anecdotes of which she had an endless stock.

They had an excellent soup followed by so-called _Olde farmer's snack_ and tutti-frutti.

"What are we doing next?" Superstar asked when they left the restaurant.

"I personally call the cab and go home." Elisabeth said in a way that didn't leave a place for any misinterpretation.

Superstar didn't mind. He was ready and willing to wait a bit. About a day or two.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked.

"I'm working all day."

"Any plans for the evening?"

"Look," said Elisabeth, "I don't want to sound terribly prudish but haven't you forgotten something. Like your wife?"

"How can I?" Superstar smiled. "But it has nothing to do with my wife or on the contrary it has everything to do with her. I want to buy a house near London. And I was going to ask you to do me a great favour: to come and see with me a few places my agent picked for me."

"Wouldn't it be more logical to ask your wife, after all it's she who will have to live there."

"True, true, but you see, it's a kind of surprise for her and also I want an opinion of somebody truly English which my wife is obviously not."

"I'm free the day after tomorrow." Elisabeth said laconically.

"Excellent!"

He saw Elisabeth to cab and waved her good-bye in a most friendly manner. His wife who spied on them from the depth of her car sighed with relief yet when she stopped the car near him and he sat aside her looking moderately amused she said angrily:

"I'll kill the bitch!"

"Don't be ridiculous, darling." Superstar said lazily and closed his eyes.

That night he dreamt of Elisabeth. It was a very pleasant dream. And quite eventful too.

The day he went on the house-hunting trip with her he took all possible and impossible precautions for his wife not to follow them. They saw a few properties, then had a nice light lunch in some picturesque country pub which as the current owner claimed served its customers from the beginning of the 15th century, its first proprietor being a smuggler who was condemned to death but managed to escape from gaol and died at the age of one hundred still serving in the pub.

Then they saw a few more properties all of them rather majestic, but in spite of their grandeur Elisabeth didn't feel any envy towards the Superstar's wife who were to move in one of them in a foreseeable future. The last house on their list turned out to be the best of all. It was a building of an outstanding beauty, as they usually say in guidebooks, surrounded by grounds of equal loveliness.

"O, my God!" Elisabeth said perhaps in tenth time in ten minutes.

"I know." Superstar agreed.

They had a tour around the house and now were standing on the second floor landing in front of the enormous window. It overlooked a beautiful park of the estate and green fields and meadows stretching behind it. It was the sweetest sight for any true British heart, a model of peace and tranquillity which only good old Britain can produce. Elisabeth was a real patriot. She always got pleasure in countryside landscape and now she felt sentimental and soft. Superstar wasn't British so instead of drooling over the views he watched Elisabeth with the eyes of an eagle. He pulled her towards him and before she had time to react kissed her. Elisabeth felt his tongue parting her lips in one skilful move and thought: "How funny, during last month I've had two of the greatest kisses of my life". Nonetheless she told Superstar crossly never to do it again. Elisabeth maybe had slept with a hundred men but she never had sex with married ones.

At the evening she got a very unpleasant phone call. It was from the Superstar's wife.

"Leave my husband alone." she hissed pretty menacingly into receiver.

At first Elisabeth tried to talk to her kindly in an attempt to explain that nothing had happened between them or ever would but the wife didn't want to listen. In the end Elisabeth hanged on in despair. Later she had to switch off her telephone because of incessant malicious calls. Elisabeth was so upset that even her favourite salad with squid for supper didn't comfort her.

The next morning the wife stormed into their salon and made an ugly scene using the language which didn't match her refine appearance. The two following days were a real nightmare for Elisabeth and then it stopped as abruptly as started.

Superstar returned to America.

At the end of the week Elisabeth had another surprise but of a very different nature: she got two tickets for a film preview. No, not a film preview but THE film preview.

Or even the FILM preview.

This film was promised to become a historic event in cinematography and all the critics before seeing it had their review drafts ready and full of words "marvellous", "outstanding", "the greatest movie in the history of film making after _Battleship Potemkin_" and so on. Because it was so big or rather predicted to be so big it was going to have two previews in London: one for the special guests and a few very lucky members of public and the other for the very special guests and no members of public at all. Elisabeth got her invitations for the most prestigious one.

"You're going to brush with the royalties." Mary said when Elisabeth told her the news.

"I'd love to take you with me but this idiot sent the tickets to the salon address and Maxim sweetly agreed to accompany me yet again. And again without being asked."

"Never mind. But who's the idiot?"

"Bill, of course, who else could do that? Speaking of which I had to call and thank him."

But Bill only laughed at her.

"You haven't got a clue, have you?" he said. "I won't have an invitation to there even for myself. Not in a million years. And taking in an account that you got it… when? day before yesterday? Which means two days before the event, right? Which in its turn means that somebody who's managed to get you two tickets in virtually last second has to be huge! Not just huge but mega huge. You're doing well, my girl."

"How do you know that it's he and not she?" Elisabeth protested weakly.

"Have you become a lesbian lately?"

Superstar, thought Elisabeth and something warm stirred in her chest, and against her will her lips stretched into a rather stupid smile. Whatever sort of person he was, whatever was her personal opinion of him his gesture was appreciated. She thought of the way to thank him and for a short little moment regretted that Superstar was in America.

But he wasn't.

He was the first person she saw when the movie ended and the guests gathered in the reception area. He smiled to Elisabeth broadly and started to walk towards her when from the thicket of the crowd his wife emerged and cut across Elisabeth. She looked murderous. Elisabeth who was a constant reader of women's magazines prepared for being splashed with an acid or even shot but fortunately all the ammunition the lady had was a stream of abuses of the foulest nature. The other guests pretended to look shocked while in reality they were pleasurably excited. Elisabeth tried to get away but the Superstar's wife had no intention to let her go. She stopped only when Superstar whispered her something and let him take her away. While everybody was watching their spectacular exit Elisabeth made herself scarce.

Superstar tried to talk to her next day in the salon but she threw him away and told that her biggest wish was to forget about ever meeting him. She gave herself a solemn promise never to participate in any star-studded events again.

Meanwhile Kitty was preparing for the occasion of a very different kind: Hippopotamus' birthday party was coming. Hippopotamus' real name was Philip and he was her husband Lawrence's little brother.

Of course if you can call little somebody who weighs around 22 stones.

Like most of the overweight people Hippopotamus had a wonderful disposition and was a soul of any company. Kitty adored him. Even before the end of school Hippopotamus started his own computer-linked business and became so successful that in his late twenties he was an owner of a big company, yacht, three sport cars (too small for his bulk) and a lovely estate in Kent where every year he threw tremendous parties at his birthday. They were of the jolliest kind because his guests knew how to have a great time. This year somebody recommended Hippopotamus to organise a whodunit party and although Kitty thought the idea quite stupid she was tickled pink by the character she was going to play. She supposed to be a glamour model and erotic movies' actress which for Kitty who was a one-man woman and an extremely decent type was a real challenge. In the game she supposed to have an official lover and protector, two semi-official lovers and her goal was to persuade the producer, Hippopotamus himself, to try her for the main role in his new movie. Bearing in mind Mary's handicraft's skills she asked her friend to help her with the clothes for this costume party. Finally lavishly made-up, in a dress made by Mary and a pair of new knee-high fake crocodile boots on her legs she approached the mirror.

"Oh dear, I look exactly like…" Kitty started.

A cheap slut, Lydia would say if she was present but she wasn't and Mary would never use words like that.

"A call girl?" She volunteered laying table for tea.

The irresistible aroma of vanilla and hot honey coming from the kitchen stated that the cake they baked was ready. (To be truthful Mary's participation was mostly in supplying some ingredients and crushing walnuts)

"You mean like a prostitute?" Kitty asked looking inquisitively into the mirror.

The effect was stunning. Kitty belonged to that type of the women who having a nice figure, nice face and good hair somehow manage to stay completely unnoticeable. She wore her hair in a bun partly because somebody told her that she had a lovely shape of head but mostly because it was faster and easier that way. Now her hair free and curled at the ends hid the abovementioned lovely shape but they made her face look livelier and prettier.

"You have to use more make-up." Mary said watching her critically. "Not that much naturally, but some. It really becomes you. Look at your eyes! They're so big and blue. And your lips! Why don't you?"

"I don't know," said Kitty," it takes so much time to apply all this stuff and with the home to run and family and work I simply haven't got it."

"Rubbish." Mary said severely. "You're just lazy and don't appreciate what Nature gave you. I would kill for a pair of legs like yours! Why don't you wear mini-skirts all the time?"

"I don't know. I guess they are not me. And Lawrence likes me looking conventional."

"Did he tell you that?"

"Yes, many times. He told me also that he hates this world-wide obsession with enhancing, liposuction and other kinds of home improvements as he calls it."

"You don't need any of them," Mary said firmly, "just a little mascara, a smidgeon of lipstick and a touch of eye-shadow. Lawrence might not even notice."

"Oh, he will and I bet he won't approve it," Kitty chuckled, "he will have a fit today when he sees me.

Lawrence was indeed surprised and displeased.

"What was this idiot Philip thinking of when offering this role to you?" he said irritably. "I will have a few words with him."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ginger," said Kitty, "I think it's hilarious."

"Not at all. And, please, do not call me this stupid name. How many times I have to ask you about that?"

"You didn't mind it in past." Kitty said pouting.

Their short squabble didn't spoil her festive mood and the sight of Philip's brightly lit mansion made her heart beat faster. She was excited because she adored parties. They always gave her a feeling that something absolutely wonderful and amazing was going to happen. She had the same feeling now and sighed happily in pleasurable anticipation.

"You look fabulous." Hippopotamus said beaming at her when they entered his giant sitting room.

"No, she doesn't." Lawrence said coldly. "You have very strange fantasies, pal. My wife cannot possibly be associated with the image you gave her in your idiotic farce."

He continued to talk clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice. Both Kitty and Philip were used to it and stopped listen almost at once. Lawrence always talked a lot. Kitty suspected that that was the main reason for him becoming a lawyer.

Most of the guests were already there. Kitty didn't know all of them as each year their company grew. The party was already in a full swing and Kitty joined everybody as soon as she saw her stuff to be taken into their bedroom. Hippopotamus' butler – oh yes, he had a butler alright! – gave the newcomers printed instructions with the main plot, list of suspects (which as usual included all the guests) and some useful hints.

Kitty was thoroughly enjoying herself, fortunately hers and Lawrence's paths didn't cross so he couldn't spoil her glorious mood with his gloomy face and acid remarks. Kitty saw him once or twice from the distance and he looked fairly content. They had a very nice dinner which was part of the game as one of the guests had to be poisoned during it. Hippopotamus cooked the dinner himself, he loved to cook and kept saying that if his business would go bunk he would become a chef. This time they had a delicious fisherman's soup for starter and duckling as a main dish.

After dinner they danced a little and in the crowd a second guest was killed. Stubbed to death to be precise. Kitty opened her mouth with glee ready to scream on the top of her voice but was stopped by a certain unpleasant sensation deep inside her which could mean one thing only: her periods were going to start and four days earlier too. Normally it came with clockwork precision, no wonder that she was totally unprepared. She rushed upstairs in hope to find all necessary things in one of the bathrooms. Philip was a first-rate host and always kept a stock of virtually everything.

Perhaps if she would visit the en-suite of her and Lawrence's bedroom nothing that took place afterwards would happen but she was in a light panic and popped in to the first door on her way. She found all she needed and was ready to leave the place when she heard somebody entering the room. Her first impulse was to come out of the bathroom, to apologize for her intruding and to explain the situation but to her horror the couple in the room started kissing without much ado, kissing that soon developed into a noisy love-making. So poor Kitty sat on the edge of the bath tub being really miserable. On one hand the situation was quite comical on the other she thought in horror about an awkward minute when the couple would discover her in her haven. Meanwhile they finished their business and almost immediately started arguing. Kitty had no wish to listen to their fight but she had no choice either.

So she listened. If there was one thing that she learned from their dispute that was the fact that they weren't married as the woman demanded the man to come clean with his wife. The man insisted that he needed some time to sort the things out. Just like men usually do.

"Swine," Kitty thought, "I bet he's not going to do anything. I bet he is happy with the situation like it is, cheating on them both and congratulating himself what a stag he is. I hate such men, Lawrence would never be like that." The thought of Lawrence made her smile. Lawrence was a terrible bore sometimes but otherwise he was perfect. The best husband in the world! From Lawrence her thoughts took another course. She was curious who were her accidental neighbours and wondered whether she ever would know that.

Meanwhile the couple finally came to peace and went away without taking any interest in the next-door facilities. A personal hygiene wasn't clearly on their priority list. Feeling relieved Kitty left her hiding place too. All the way back to the lounge she chuckled, imagining expression on the couple's faces if they learned about her presence. Suddenly she realised that it wouldn't be difficult to identify the cheating husband. Apart from her and Lawrence there were only two married couple present and Kitty prided herself in being a good physiognomist. She was sure to easily find out which of them was guilty. It was much more complicated with the woman, virtually any female could turn out to be her. OK, not any, she, for example, would never be the one. She would never cheat on her sweet funny Ginger. She thought how they would laugh with Lawrence when later in the night she would tell him about her adventure. As soon as she thought that she realised that she wasn't sure about that: Lawrence was rather upright. And a bit too willing to pass a judgment on the others. And he would disapprove of her unintentional eavesdropping.

So after some careful consideration Kitty chose not to tell Lawrence anything. Instead of it she decided to do some sleuthing. First of all she studied all the people present at the party but they all looked absolutely ordinary. They acted rather naturally too talking, laughing, asking for drinks or even demanding dessert because Hippopotamus promised them a torte the recipe for which he had just found somewhere.

Finally Kitty gave up her Sherlock-holmesing and decided to take a short cut. Therefore she approached Philip and asked him boldly whose bedroom was the first in the left wing. Hippopotamus looked quizzically at her and demanded why she was so interested in that. Kitty had a plausible explanation ready and he pointed at a tall girl with long blond hair who was speaking to some guy.

"Don't you know her?" Hippopotamus asked. "She works with your husband. Her name is Joanne. Joanne Reed."

When he needed any legal help Philip always used his brother's firm. He knew all the Lawrence's colleagues and a few of them were amongst his guests. Kitty thought of how Lawrence would react if he learned about such moral decline amid his co-workers. She also didn't like Joanne at all, the girl looked too confident and haughty. Now Kitty's wish to know who Joanne was with became even stronger. Risking to be considered rude Kitty followed Joanne with her eyes everywhere. Meanwhile oblivious to Kitty's interest in her Joanne drifted from one guest to another until she moved to the end of the room and stopped there to talk to Lawrence. Kitty couldn't hear them but she saw their faces and they were impassive and even a trifle hostile. And then she saw something else. Joanne and Kitty's husband were standing side by side near the corner cabinet unaware of their backs reflecting in a mirror glass behind them. This mirror showed Kitty her husband's hand caressing Joanne's behind with enviable enthusiasm.

Now she understood why the male voice sounded familiar to her!


	5. Chapter 5

On her way to Brighton Kitty twice had a near escape. First time she almost collided with a lorry: she didn't see anything because of the tears and her car skidded to the centre of the road. On second account she practically lost control over the car on a sharp turn.

She told Philip that she had to leave the party urgently. That her best friend called her and asked her to come because she got very ill. That there was no need to inform Lawrence about her unexpected departure, otherwise he would want to go with her and he couldn't help poor Mary anyway. And so on. She called Mary to warn her in case if Lawrence would call and as soon as her car hit the road she began to cry. She cried all the way to Mary's place and simply couldn't stop. When she entered Mary's flat three worried faces peered at her from behind Mary's back and she felt a warm sensation inside: even Elisabeth, dishevelled and without make-up – Mary raised her from bed – was there. They spoke all night (though Jane left soon after Kitty's arrival) and didn't come to any conclusion. Lydia insisted on Kitty's leaving Lawrence at once, Mary was for serious adult discussion and Elisabeth thought that Kitty had to have a nice good shag with some great guy or two and forget all about the matter. In the morning totally stupefied by the mixture of strong coffee and Pro-plus Kitty left for the hospital: unlike other girls she had to work that day. While fumbling for car keys she found a plump sweet-smelling package in her bag.

Mary, she thought and choked on her emotions. That morning she was particularly hormonal.

During her lunch break Kitty went to see Mike. Mike was her Patrick and Kitty was resolved to take Elisabeth's advice and get even with Lawrence through Mike. She came to this decision after weighing carefully the options the girls gave her the previous evening. She had no intention of leaving Lawrence: he was hers for better for worse and she loved him. For the same reason Mary's suggestion of adult conversation wasn't for her. She was afraid of adult conversation, she was afraid making things worse. She didn't particularly want to sleep with Mike but Elisabeth said that she could forget about what had happened afterwards and to forget was what Kitty wished most of all. To forget completely so that she would return to her old cosy world where there was no Joanne.

The closer Kitty came to Mike's quarters the weaker her determination grew. Not only she herself wasn't keen on having sex with him, she started to get doubts about his enthusiasm on that subject. Besides she had no idea how to put it up to him. In Elisabeth's lips all sounded light and easy, but that was Elisabeth, her attitude towards everything was light and easy. Kitty was different. Kitty took thing seriously. In other words Kitty was Kitty and Elisabeth was Elisabeth.

Kitty reached Mike's department, examined the sign above the entrance and turned back. At the evening she went to Mary's again. This was her customary night off when Lawrence's mother babysat Peter for them while they went to cinema or to restaurant. She told her husband that she had some other plans and he didn't argue. Maybe he was just happy to have a free evening to spend with Joanne.

"I can't do it." Kitty complained addressing generally Elisabeth. "I don't want to sleep with Mike. I don't want to sleep with anybody but Lawrence. I still love him, I'm afraid."

"Then you can't divorce him." Mary said with a childish conviction.

"I don't want to. I want everything to be like it was before. And I want him to forget this terrible Joanne."

"You're a fool!" Lydia said angrily. "If my husband treated me like yours I would send him packing in no time."

"That's why you're not married." Mary said hotly; she didn't like Lawrence much and often called him a pompous ass, which he undoubtedly was, but she hated to see Kitty unhappy and if it was vital for her to stay with her husband, then nobody had right to press her for divorce.

"Oh yeah?" Lydia said with the dangerous modulations in her voice. "And what's the reason for you not being married?"

"Guys, guys! Have you forgotten why we've gathered here?" Jane interrupted them calmly. "We have to think about Kitty. Your marital views and problems can wait until later."

"What sort of a woman this Joanne person?" Elisabeth asked thoughtfully.

"Tall, young, showy. In a cheap kind of way."

"Tawdry." Lydia said. "The word is tawdry."

"Why do you think she picked your husband?" Elisabeth continued. "I can understand him…"

"I can't," said Kitty curtly.

"For how long have you been married?"

"For almost six years." Kitty said with a shade of rightful pride.

"I think I know what Elisabeth's saying: you're not a novelty anymore." Lydia said slowly. "He doesn't have much of excitement at home and he has a rather dull job. He meets this flashy piece and he's thrilled. She is so different from you: free, always ready to please, always brightly-coloured, not a nice homely type like his wife although I won't be surprised if he is planning to convert her into one in future."

"Oh no!" Kitty said through her tears.

"Please, don't cry," said Mary, "now, have a cookie."

"Yes, calm down." Lydia said: "I didn't mean that he's going to marry her and even if he is we won't let him. Our task now is to show him that she's not a woman he thinks she is."

"How?" Kitty asked with a hope.

"I know!" Mary exclaimed excitedly. "Elisabeth will make you a new hairdo: something smashing like for Jane (And what good came out of that for me, Jane thought uneasily), then we make you up, choose you some stunning outfit and then Lawrence will see how gorgeous you are. Much better than that Joanne."

"I'm thinking about something more down to earth," said Lydia, "like another man."

"I've told you I'm not sleeping with anybody!" Kitty cried.

"Not for you," said Lydia with first signs of irritation, "for Lawrence's bird."

"You mean to find her somebody, so she will leave my husband alone? A new partner for her? Somebody she'll fall in love with and he will fall for her? But where will we find such a person and soon?"

"Not necessarily a real new partner. It will be sufficient if she will think that he's in love with her. And he has to be or at least pretend to be much more alluring than Lawrence from the point of wealth and such things."

"You think she's for his money? We're reasonably well-off but not rich."

"What are her chances to get something better?"

"I don't know. Maybe none. So your plan is to make her to swallow the bait and then to chuck my Lawrence?"

"Sort of. But to make sure that it will be one hundred per cent foolproof we will also make photos of her and her new interest in compromising positions and show them to your husband. Then he won't have any illusion about her."

"It sounds like a good plan," Jane said. "With one flaw, of course: where can we find a man like that? The one who will agree to play a role of a charmer and what's more important: the one who will agree to have sex with her knowing that he will be photographed, ah?"

"I can always ask Pat," Elisabeth started looking slyly at Lydia.

"No!" Lydia barked.

"You know, Lydia, you're terribly selfish." Elisabeth said mockingly. "You have to try not to think about your interests and your interests only but to make an effort and help your friend in need. Alright, alright, I was just kidding! I'm not going to touch your precious Pat. I have somebody else in mind."

Elisabeth met Rob at the time when she wanted to become an actress. Rob was a struggling actor too but unlike Elisabeth he managed to make a career and now was rich, successful and relatively known. He didn't become a film or TV star but made a name exclusively in porn productions, the fact that didn't bother him as long as he was satisfied with the pay. In the days of their youth he and Elisabeth had a stormy fling and during all the years which followed he constantly tried to get into her pants again. Ineffectively. In real life he was an unimaginative type of lover and even his work in the porno industry didn't teach him how to treat a woman who wished to enjoy sex as much as her partner instead of just lying under him waiting till he would get what he wanted.

Rob was an ideal candidate for their plan: he wouldn't be turned off by all the cameras in the world. He was also very good-looking in a masculine way. With golden rings on his fingers, his white costumes and his silver Lamborghini he was a dream of any Joanne of this world.

"Do you think he will agree?" Lydia asked anxiously: she was still slightly worried about possibility of drawing Pat into their plot.

"But naturally! Why not, I mean? It will appeal to him. He likes challenge. But we will need a flat here in Brighton."

"You can use mine!" Lydia said a bit too enthusiastically and everyone laughed understanding her real motives.

Somehow it humoured even Kitty and she began to smile and Elisabeth went to the kitchen to make something to eat for all of them. Fortunately Mary's fridge was full and with the help of the others she prepared fast and delicious supper.

After supper Elisabeth called Rob to arrange meeting with him.

"Rejoice," she said to Kitty, "he agreed and we'll show that horrible Joanne how to steal other people's husbands."

"Fingers crossed," said Mary worriedly, "let's hope that everything will go as planned."

"More like, knees crossed." Elisabeth muttered: she knew the price she would personally pay but unlike Lydia she wasn't selfish at all."

The girls learned from her later that after two days spent on some homework Rob got to know Joanne. The girls met him on Sunday morning when he came with Elisabeth and his friend to Lydia's flat to install the cameras.

"He is gorgeous!" Mary said with admiration. "Is he for real? I didn't know that they still make them like that."

"He plays in porno, remember?" Elisabeth said warningly and went to Rob to help him with checking his photo-equipment.

Lydia spent the rest of the weekend in Mary's while Rob was going through the last stage of their plan. With Joanne's enthusiastic assistance, by the way.

On Monday Rob and his cameraman appeared again and for the last time in Lydia's flat, dismantled their stuff and promised that the girls would hear from them soon.

On Wednesday Kitty opening morning post found a thick envelope addressed to Mr and Mrs Hoare, that is to her and Lawrence. She knew perfectly well what was inside it as she recognised Elisabeth's hand, yet she was capable to perform a genuine surprise and curiosity.

"It's some photos by the look of it, darling," she said to her husband who was reading his paper and not interested at all. "Have you sent anything for printing? No? Maybe it's from your brother, from his birthday party. That's it! I'm sure, they're party's snapshots. Oh, I'm dying to see them!"

In reality she was dying to see his face when he would see the photos. Lawrence was still deep in his _Guardian_ when she tore an envelope open and took its contents out.

"What's this?" she said after an appropriate pause. "Who are these people? Why are we being sent such filth?"

Her last phrase and particularly the shrillness of her voice finally drew her husband's attention. He stretched his hand, took the pictures and got the first one close to his eyes: he was a little short-sighted. Kitty watched him practically not breathing. All the photos were of the highest quality and showed Joanne with Rob in the positions both various and unequivocal. Rob tried his best indeed and even the author of Kama Sutra would turn enviously in his grave if he could see all the acrobatic exercises of the pair. At first when seeing the pictures Lawrence became red in face, then white, then he proceeded to change his countenance every three seconds going through all the basic colours of spectrum. At some point Kitty even began feeling sorry for him. It happened when he examined a photo of Joanne's blond head between Rob's manly thighs. Kitty decided that at the evening she would treat him for his stress with his favourite lamb and bacon.

Lawrence was getting more and more crimson and Kitty became afraid for his health but he managed to curb his temper.

"I don't know who send us these appalling pictures," he said at last, "but I'm going to find out. I'm taking this stuff with me. I will find out…I'll go to the post office…police…I'll write to our MP if I'll have to!"

With these words he stormed out of the house while triumphant Kitty telephoned all her friends. Joanne was a history!

The same evening Elisabeth had the expected visitor. There was no gymnastics this time but it took the whole night to reward quite insatiable Rob for his assistance in saving Kitty's marriage.

And although Elisabeth experienced at least six orgasms…

"…it was boring," she confessed to her friends later. "Even listening to PM Question Time gives me more thrills."

Next morning she called Maxim and explained him (untruthfully) why she couldn't come to work. The story with Superstar made her super famous. Now even the celebrities of the highest ranks who had their very own personal hairdressers queued to be styled in their salon. Everyone wanted to know the newest and the freshest gossip about the Superstar's affair. Nobody believed the truth. They didn't want to. What they did want was sassy details as much as possible. In a way they could be understood: nobody ever rejected Superstar before (or if somebody did newspapers weren't aware of that). Anyway the salon, as I said, became extremely popular for the time being and Maxim was so grateful to Elisabeth that if she asked him to shave his head he probably would.

Totally exhausted by 30 seconds' conversation Elisabeth relaxed in her bed when the telephone rung.

"You switched off your phone." Lydia said accusingly.

"So?"

In fact it was Rob who did it but she didn't feel like explaining anything to Lydia. All she wanted was to be left alone so she could sleep, sleep and sleep.

"He came yesterday!" Lydia said with the intonations of a tragic actress of the thirties.

"I know!" thought Elisabeth feeling her head spinning lightly as if she became weightless and was swinging gently with a soft breeze somewhere on Mediterranean coast. Or maybe even Caribbean.

Lydia's demanding voice dragged her pitilessly out of this bliss.

"Don't you hear me?" she shouted. "Pat was yesterday with me!"

"I'm finishing at four today," she continued, "come to Brighton for the full report."

"Oh no," said Elisabeth, "with all due respect I had enough of Brighton for the time being."

"OK. Then I come. To think about it I might take the rest of the day off and come by train to London right now."

"Don't do that! Or you'll spend all afternoon outside my front door," said Elisabeth quickly horrified with the prospect, "finish your work and then come if you have to."

"You're impossible!" Lydia said. "Alright. I stay until the end of my shift but I can call you with a brief recap during my break."

"Absolutely not. I'm switching my phone off. And Lydia? Bring some leek I want to make pancakes with filling for supper but I need leek and I don't have any at home."

Not waiting for an answer she unplugged the phone.

At the time when Lydia came Elisabeth was fully awaken. She was surprised to find out that she was eager to hear her story. Lydia has waited for too long and fully deserves to have a keen listener, she told to herself, but the real reason was that she was plain curious. "I'm getting old," she thought, "I become a terrible gossipmonger. Soon I won't be interested in love-making, only in stories about it." She tried to feel sorry for herself but then remembered how many men there were in the world with whom she hadn't slept yet and felt an elevation of spirits.

"So," said Lydia when Elisabeth gave her requested "Bloody Mary", "are you ready to listen about my extraordinary adventure yesterday?"

There was nothing extraordinary in it but Elisabeth wasn't going to argue with her. To cut a long story short Patrick appeared on the Lydia's doorstep when after watching her favourite TV programme she was busy with the dilemma: to take a shower or to have a nice herbal bath. Bath almost won, as it always had in past, when the doorbell rung. She opened the door.

"And he was there! Can you imagine?"

Elisabeth easily could but didn't say that. Anyway the question was purely rhetorical and Lydia continued:

"I invited him in, took him into the drawing room, offered him a drink and while he was making himself comfortable went to my room and do you want to know what I did there?"

Took your knickers off, Elisabeth was itching to say but she restrained herself and expressed an appropriate inquisitiveness on her face.

"I poured half a bottle of Shalimar over my head. It took me out of stupor."

"A bit drastic and a terribly smelly method, wasn't it?" Elisabeth was ready to say but as earlier she controlled her tongue.

"What happened?" she asked instead because Lydia made a dramatic pause.

"After my perfumery shower I returned to the drawing room thinking feverishly about something worth talking about. But I didn't have to worry. He was standing near the mantelpiece when I came in and studied my photos around it. He told me that I looked sweet and funny when I was a child. He asked me how they called me at home when I was little."

"Cut the crap, Lydia." Elisabeth broke. "Did you sleep with him or not?"

"Of course I slept with him. Do you think I would allow him to go away without it?

Again? No way! Oh, Elisabeth! He is so great! You were right: he's the best. But you know," she laughed coquettishly, "I had a feeling that he tried really hard to show me everything he could do. These men! Sometimes they behave just like teenagers having their first coitus."

"I do hope he will come tomorrow again," she said and she sounded pretty confident that he would, "then I'll be able to show him what I'm capable of. To tell you the truth I wasn't in my best yesterday, I confess, I was a trifle overexcited."

"By the way," she said when Elisabeth filled their plates with appetisingly smelling pancakes," I asked my mum about that recipe you were interested in and she wrote it down for you. It's in my purse. You see, how good I am? And unselfish? Somebody else in my place wouldn't remember about such things during the major events in their lives but I did!"

"Well, it was great talking to you." Lydia said in the morning as she spent the night in Elizabeth's. "I'd love to stay for longer but I have to go back home. Pat didn't promise anything but I wouldn't be surprised if he would materialise today. He knows that I'm free today. I also called my cleaner to make everything spick and span. What do you think I have to wear? When he came the day before yesterday I was wearing my pyjamas! And if he would come a bit later he could see me in the bathrobe! Oh my God! I just thought that I could be in the bathroom not hearing him ringing the bell, can you imagine that?"

She made a pause to contemplate such a horror while Elisabeth looked at her watch for the tenth time in a row and said firmly:

"Lydia, I have to go. My shift starts in an hour time and I'm not going to be late!"

"On the other hand I guess it looks very sexy: all silvery white, silky and smooth."

"What on Earth are you talking about?"

"My pyjamas. Unlike some people I have standards: I will never go around my house even in the evening in something like that terrible worn-out flowery monstrosity Mary's usually wearing or in some outsized T-shirt like you. And your habit of sleeping in your knickers and vest is disgusting!"

"I don't."

"Don't what?"

"I don't sleep in my knickers and vest."

"But I saw you with my own eyes!"

"Yes, I put them on because of you. Normally I sleep in raw."

"You're kidding?"

"No, I like my body to have a complete rest and you can only have it when you don't wear anything."

"I think it's sick. And what if somebody will come unexpectedly."

"In the middle of the night? I don't have many visitors at that time."

"Anybody can come, something urgent may happen, your neighbours might want something or one of your numerous boyfriends will feel like that."

"If something really critical will need my attention, I can always ask my visitors to wait for a moment or two. My neighbours are an old Korean couple who go to bed after children TV programmes are finished and I can't visualise them waking me up at two or three in the morning to borrow an iron or to ask to help them with some Korean crossword. And if one of my boyfriends would come without previous agreement most likely I wouldn't open the door at all. But if I would do that I don't think they would feel very disappointed that I don't wear a new Gucci piece at that particular moment. And now, Lydia, out! Or if you want you can stay but get off my way because I'm not wasting one more second on you!"

Elisabeth had a rather uneventful day in the salon. Uneventful but exhausting as she had a huge amount of the clients. But then it became quite habitual in these days because everyone wanted to have their hair done by her and by her only. Crafty Maxim gave her two girls to help instead of one regular shampooist whom she normally shared with two other stylists. He also arranged her shifts in such a way that she did the most important and eminent customers while less significant and fortunate had to content themselves with overheard pieces of her polite conversation with the clients. Most of them were impertinent enough to ask her direct questions about Superstar or even demand some facts of her nonexistent affair but she was good-natured enough to just smile, deny everything prettily or change skilfully the subject. However the last tactics didn't work well, especially when now and again a deliveryman from the local florist stepped into the salon bringing her baskets of flowers. All the clients livened up each time while Maxim shook his head in the most displeased manner, shrugged his shoulders and sent her dark glances. Elisabeth tried to look a bit guilty but defiant at the same time or at least not to forget to show some reaction. Superstar was back to Hollywood and had no intention to pursue her as she made her point only too clear when she saw him last time. The flowers were ordered by Maxim who was also the director of the show or rather farce and Elisabeth wasn't going to risk their good relationship by refusing to play her part. Also she didn't mind her enormous tips and her increased salary as clever Maxim revised his prices the very next day after Superstar's furious spouse threw a public scandal during the preview.

Later in the day Lydia called her workplace although Elisabeth had warned all her friends that they could do that only in cases of an extreme emergency. What Maxim really hated were the telephone conversations during the shifts.

"What do you think I have to cook?" Lydia asked. "Do you know what he really likes?"

"Moroccan veal," whispered Elisabeth into the receiver nervously, "and don't you ever call me here again!"

Elisabeth felt Maxim's eyes fixing on her back which made her double angry with Lydia and her unnecessary call. That's why she couldn't control her temper and said the last words much louder than she was intended to. The reaction of Maxim at whom she looked guiltily was unexpected: instead of being cross he grinned. Maxim grinned because he knew his customers well. He had no doubts that it wasn't Superstar who was calling but his clientele and even Elisabeth's co-workers were of different opinion and they all looked at her with a revived hope.

Elisabeth sighed and thought that the world went mad. Meanwhile her archenemy Leo whispered "bitch" under his breath. Leo now added to his list of grievances another reason to hate her: he was a great fan of the Superstar and deep in the heart of his hearts believed that one day his idol would come out of the closet and tell everyone that all his wives and women were nothing but a chain of stupid and tragic mistakes.

Elisabeth heard the phone ringing while opening the door of her flat. A few seconds later her mobile which she forgot at home buzzed as well. For the first time Elisabeth noticed how irritating the ringtone was and decided to change the tune as soon as she would find time for that. She said: "One moment, please" into her landline telephone and pressed the green button on the mobile.

"There would be no need to pick up your mobile if you gave me an opportunity to say a word after your "one moment"." Lydia said grumpily.

"Why the hell are you calling on both lines?"

"Because I wasn't sure on which I would catch you faster. Because I left you three messages and you didn't answer a single one. Because your mobile was switched off and because you forbade me to call you into the salon."

"I've just come in and didn't have an opportunity to check my answering machine and also I've left my mobile at home today."

"Why are you so late? I thought you were finishing at seven tonight."

"Yes, but then I went shopping. I have this stupid habit of eating sometimes, you know. And my fridge was quite empty, thanks for you."

"Are you grudging me a couple of sandwiches?"

"No. Just two stones of other foodstuff."

"I couldn't help it. When I'm nervous I eat, eat and eat not even becoming aware of that. When I was at the Medical School I put on at least eight pounds during each exam session. Anyway, I'm not calling you for an idle chat, I want your advice: what do you think is more attractive red or black?"

"Are you re-decorating?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I have two gorgeous long evening dresses and I can't decide which one to wear tonight."

"Where do you go?" Elisabeth asked trying to balance her phone between her ear and shoulder while washing her favourite saucepan off the remains of the soup she cooked around three o'clock at the morning for hungry Lydia."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm expecting Pat this evening, remember?"

"Try be practical, Lydia," said Elisabeth who was dying for a cup of tea and wanted to get rid of her tiresome friend as soon as it was possible, "for how long are you going to keep your clothes on? Let's say last time: what did he do when you returned to the lounge wearing a gallon of Shalimar in an addition to your pyjamas? Did he make himself comfortable in an armchair and began to ask your views on the situation in the Middle East? Or perhaps he was interested in the discussion on whether or not we have to accept more countries in the European Union even if they're very poor which would mean that our tax-payers would have to feed them not mentioning that they all would be here in no time looking for the jobs and better life?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Lydia after a pause.

"Relax, I only read you a paragraph from the newspaper's article. I'm still just a pretty face and am interested in the fate of Europe to the same degree as in who will win the next general elections in Albania."

"Do they have general elections out there?"

"I don't know. My point is: Pat saw you in your clothes for exactly how much time? Fifteen minutes? Ten?"

"Five more like it, maybe even less." Lydia answered rather proudly. "When

I came to the mantelpiece where he was admiring me in my Red Riding Hood costume at the age of three he pulled me closer to him with his left hand as if he wanted me to look at the picture too. Then, when I was side by side with him he simply turned to me and without further words took my top off. Then he said: "You've got a beautiful neck" and kissed me into it. And then we kissed like mad and he was sort of pushing me towards the couch but we didn't make it there that time. We both were too impatient!"

"Lydia, mercy! I've heard that story twice during yesterday evening and three times during the night! I'm hungry and dead tired."

"You're impossible and I hate you. I'm going through crisis, I'm in love and you don't want to share my worries."

"What worries? Red or black?"

"That's too! It's very important to me how I look. Always was. And I'm happy to note that you've begun to work on your appearance as well. No offence, but at school you looked like a pile of garbage."


	6. Chapter 6

When poor Elisabeth finally got her peace she unpacked her bags, made a nice strong cup of tea and sipping her hot aromatic beverage began to contemplate what she was going to cook for her supper. Elisabeth really liked cooking. She was very young when her stomach problems began and when after school she left home to live on her own she had to take care not only of her career and life in general but of her eating too. She couldn't live on sandwiches or take-away chips and doughnuts. Back at home her mum looked after her, then she had to learn it herself. She was creative by nature: both at work and in bed, perhaps it was no wonder that her resourcefulness extended to the food making too.

Elisabeth just started to crush garlic for her lemon sauce for chicken when the phone rang again.

Cursing the caller from the bottom of her heart she picked up the receiver. Unsurprisingly it was Lydia again.

"I wonder at what time he's going to show," she said anxiously, "the day before yesterday he came somewhere after ten and it's half past already."

"Maybe he's not coming at all?" Elisabeth asked unkindly and immediately regretted her remark as Lydia exploded.

She accused Elisabeth of all possible sins and the only opportunity to shut her up was to call Pat's name. Since yesterday Elisabeth noticed that it worked like a bucket of cold water for Lydia.

"What, if he's trying your number right now while you keep your line busy?" she asked deviously.

The effect was just as she hoped for.

"Don't call me anymore," Lydia cried indignantly, "I call you myself when I can."

Can't wait, Elisabeth murmured congratulating herself for ingenuity. She praised herself yet again after her dinner was cooked, eaten and she stretched on the floor in front of the TV enjoying peace and quiet. She was full, she was in peace, she almost purred. Her thoughts were happy, lazy and slow. She thought: now she won't ring at all waiting if not for him then for his call, and she will never come here for the same reason. She knew that she was rather uncharitable but at the same time she had a few reasons to justify herself:

Elisabeth had too much of Lydia throughout the last 24 hours

during her shift she had to talk a lot to her clients and she longed for a bit of silence (TV doesn't count)

she didn't understand why Lydia behaved like a total fool, Elisabeth told her enough about Patrick for her not to have any illusions about the guy

although Superstar's attention had some good impact on her private life as all her unwanted admirers finally left her alone she didn't get any new ones and felt rather lonely.

As you can see she had enough of her own problems to feel sorry for her friend. Also she didn't see any basis to be sorry for Lydia: although she was sure that Patrick wouldn't visit Lydia this night, she knew that he would appear again eventually. Pat never changed his habits.

For the next week Elisabeth lived in a relative calm. Lydia phoned her only from work. Luckily for Elisabeth her shifts coincided with Lydia's so Maxim was instructed accordingly. That gave Maxim a double pleasure: firstly through an opportunity to be rude to Lydia which he did wholeheartedly as he hated when his employees made uncalled-for breaks during their work, and secondly yet again reminding his clients of the covert liaison between Elisabeth and Superstar.

…When Elisabeth heard Lydia's victorious voice on her home phone she knew that her friend scored again.

"He's just left." Lydia explained breathlessly. "It was unbelievable. I'll order a taxi in a moment and will be with you in an hour or so. There have to be a train in fifteen minutes. I don't work tomorrow so we can talk all night, isn't that great?"

"You can't come," said Elisabeth who did work tomorrow, "I – I have somebody with me at the moment."

"Bother!" Lydia said sullenly. "Can't you get rid of whoever it is quickly? I'm not going to discuss my private life in front of total strangers! You have an hour. Think about something to throw them away. Invent something like as your mum's coming or whatever. I can't talk longer or I'll miss my train."

"Lydia," said Elisabeth quietly, "you can only come if you like threesome."

"Elisabeth, you're not listening! Patrick was here again!"

"It's you who's not listening. I'm lying in my bed with my legs apart and it's not you who's coming. OK?"

"So what I'm going to do?" Lydia asked petulantly.

"Call Mary or somebody else. I'm busy!"

"I'll call Mary." Lydia decided brightening up sufficiently. "She looked sort of miserable recently."

Sorry, Mary, thought Elisabeth and returned to her book. She was on her own, fully clothed and rather lonely but Lydia wasn't a sort of companion she really needed at the moment.

The book, a crime story that somebody had forgotten in the salon, was a real thriller and Elisabeth was so much drawn into its bloody plot that she didn't notice time flying. The doorbell retuned her back to reality. It was past midnight and she had an early morning start tomorrow. I'll kill you, Lydia, she thought heading towards the front door, I'll kill you and you won't be bothering me ever again, and I will be acquitted! But it wasn't Lydia behind the door.

"You," Elisabeth said incredulously, she was so relieved for not seeing Lydia that forgot about everything else. "What are you doing here and where did you get my address? I don't remember giving it to you."

"From my wife," Superstar said coolly, "may I come in?"

"If you have to."

Whether he had to or not he did come in. He brought her a single rose, white, dispassionate, virginally beautiful, on an endless prickly stem. Elisabeth didn't like roses. As a matter of fact she didn't like flowers at all. The bouquets sent her by Maxim under the false pretence always stayed in the salon. From time to time she offered them to her best clients and with their eyes jumping out of their sockets they grabbed them in an innocent belief that they got hold of some relic sanctified by Superstar's touch.

"What do you want?" Elisabeth asked with uncovered animosity.

"Supper would be nice. I'm almost indecently hungry."

"Why did you come," said Elisabeth opening her fridge, "I thought I explained you everything last time. I have cold beef. Do you want some?

"Let's forget about past," Superstar said soothingly, "I brought a bottle of good wine. We will share it and talk. Just like two friends."

"We're not friends." Elisabeth said softening a bit.

"But we could pretend that we are."

They drank wine and it was excellent. It had a vague tangy taste and aroma so strong that without any apparent reason Elisabeth's heart tightened. She felt a bit sad and light-headed. In spite of Superstar's promise of a friendly conversation they didn't talk much and when they finished the bottle he stood up and moved towards the door. She followed him. At the door he stopped and turned around to say good-bye. She offered him her hand avoiding his eyes.

He said:

"Elisabeth?"

She looked into his face and saw that he was still hungry.

And she was hungry too...

Elisabeth didn't have much of an experience with older men, she preferred young firm strong bodies and believed that they were better not only to the touch. Perhaps she tried wrong men or Superstar was an exception but she decided to reconsider her views. He was good in bed. Really damn good. Elisabeth thought that she understood why so many women chased him around the world during his life. Money and his name played of course some role in it but not the main one. Elisabeth once heard an expression that there were some men who could make a prostitute to feel like a princess and some who could make a princess to feel like a prostitute. Superstar had a talent to make any woman to feel whatever she wanted to. And he was unbelievably tender. When his fingers touched her skin moving down from her neck to the navel she couldn't stop her body quivering as if it was her first time and she was on a doorstep of something new, scary and marvellous. When she finally felt him inside her she wasn't able to suppress a moan, so much her body wanted him.

Superstar had woken up before she did. He lay by her side touching her hair lightly and smiling gently and sadly to his thoughts. He knew that he loved Elisabeth. She was his late and most probably last love. Only now he fully realised that his autumn finally came and whether it would be miserable or sunny depended on this foul-mouthed, vivacious and not extra-sophisticated girl who was so unlike all the women he had before. He knew different women: beautiful, aristocratic, frigid and greedy. Elisabeth was greedy too but her greed was for life, she had that hidden fire he couldn't find in the others. He suddenly thought about his dad. He remembered that when he was a child, two of his best friends got puppies and he decided that he urgently wanted a dog too and asked his father for one. His mates' puppies were of the purest pedigree, nothing else could be given to the offspring of the rich and old families they belonged to. While the Superstar wondered what breed of dog his dad would choose for him the latter brought home a funny little fellow of unidentified kind. _What sort of dog he is_, asked the mystified boy and his father answered: _the best one, a mongrel_. _A mongrel_, a future Superstar said looking with some disgust at a small bundle of energy and curiosity which while they were talking christened one of the legs of their white majestic dinner table, _why a mongrel?_ _And why not_, his dad said, _in a way, you know, we all are mongrels_.

He accepted the puppy and he loved it at the end. He was a great dog with plenty of spirit, strong will and eagerness to enjoy life in all its aspects. Elisabeth was just like that puppy: in love with life and unstoppable.

Elisabeth woke up when the telephone rang. She took the receiver sleepily to hear the clear and cold Maxim's voice:

"Do you know what time it is? And if you do, why are you still at home?"

"If you would only see my excuse." Elisabeth thought not realising that she was actually saying that aloud.

She bit her tongue while Maxim shrilled on the other side:

"I knew it. I knew it. I always knew it!"

"You can have a day off," he said some time later.

"To think about it, you can have three – no, two days off," he added afterwards.

"And I had two magic, two unbelievable days," said Elisabeth finishing her narrative to her friends when they met again, "and then he went back to America and I returned to my normal life and we both do our stuff and try to decide if we can live without each other."

"What about his wife?"

"He's filing for divorce. Again!"

"Aren't you afraid of her?"

"No. He told her that if she would bother me he would cut her allowance. Works marvels."

They were having a housewarming party in Elisabeth's new flat, she and her faithful friends: Mary, Kitty, Lydia and Jane. Elisabeth cooked them an amazing dinner although at the last moment she changed her carefully planned menu with which this story began if you remember. Thus they had mushroom soup and beef roulette.

Lydia was first to arrive to Elisabeth's place. Elisabeth sighed inwardly. Lately Lydia could talk of nothing but the most intimate particulars of her reunion with Patrick and although they were even more graphic than the lessons Marquise Le Roi gave to her young friend, Elisabeth was bored to death. By the way Pat vanished again but now Lydia was more optimistic: for some unknown reason she thought that he was secretly in love with her and played hard to get. She was also very happy for the fact that now Elisabeth lived in the same building with her precious Pat.

"Tell me, does Pat know that you entertain us today?" was the first thing she asked Elisabeth.

"I mentioned it, yes," said Elisabeth trying to sound very casual, "but he went to see his parents for a couple of days."

Elisabeth strongly suspected that he went to see his parents only to avoid Lydia, but it was useless to tell that to Lydia, she wouldn't believe that. Lydia believed only what she wanted to believe. She was always pampered and spoilt: by her parents, by her teachers and funnily enough by the most of her boyfriends. They found her whims charming and thought of her as of a little exotic flower which couldn't cope with the cold and hostile world outside her greenhouse. Unfortunately for Lydia Pat was even more spoilt and egotistic. He never loved anybody in his life but himself although he was capable of being a good and faithful friend. The day before Elisabeth's party they had their own housewarming for two after all her furniture, new and old, was delivered and all her bits and pieces occupied their rightful places. (And I must give it to him that he diligently helped her with settling in her new place.)

"It looks rather cosy, you know," he said approvingly when everything was finished," now let's drink for your happy days here and for us getting even closer.

"Amen!" Elisabeth said.

"Though, it's not for long, is it? Funny, I've always believed that you and I will stay single forever. I even thought that one day when we both are over eighty we might move in together. Imagine: you and I sitting in front of a fireplace, in rocking chairs, blankets on our knees, recollecting our young years and all the people we shagged. Tell me honestly: why did you do that?"

"Why did I do what?"

"I mean that celebrity dude, why did you sleep with him in the first place?"

"Because I haven't seen a male member for three weeks, I guess."

"You could always ask me. I would willingly show you mine."

"Thank you. I will keep it in mind next time I'm in need."

In spite of Patrick's absence Lydia looked cheerful. That bothered Elisabeth a little but she tried to convince herself that Lydia at last got tired of pursuing her wild dreams. The flat was admired. The food was eaten and praised. Coffee arrived. Lydia's coffee cup promised her promotion and quite a few other job related things but when Lydia elegantly asked Jane to cut the crap and tell her about her private life their own mystic Meg only shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know, the side of your cup which is responsible for love is empty."

"What do you mean, empty? How can it be empty! It has no right to be empty. It has to be full of events, great sex, love and so on. Look, I need another cup of coffee. Let's think that that one was wrong."

"Let's not!" Jane said firmly. "You're not allowed to have more than one reading in a fortnight. Otherwise it can bring bad luck. You have to wait for the next time. And by the way, if there is nothing in your cup it doesn't mean that nothing will happen to you. A reading can be wrong."

"So far everything has been right." Lydia said grumpily, she hated when the things didn't go her way.

Next was Mary. She wasn't her usual self recently, she was quiet and looked haggard but with all the turmoil of Kitty's discovery, Elisabeth's super affair and Lydia's obsession up to this moment her friends failed to see the difference in her. Now they all noticed her pale face, the dark circles under the eyes, the sadness of her mouth. They felt uneasy. They all had their problems but they shared them and helped each other when they could or at least morally supported their friends. How could they miss what was going on with her, how could they let down Mary, the kindest, nicest and in a way the most vulnerable of them all?

Mary's story was neither dramatic, nor melodramatic: just an ordinary unhappy little story.

Mary and Dan played doubles on Wednesdays. Wednesdays were great. Dan called her his partner, friendly patted her back for each good service and comforted if they lose. Mondays were even better. They played tennis too but they played against each other. These were rather friendly matches: who was winning didn't matter (although Mary tried not to do that too often, as Dan hated losing). After the match they usually went to pub where Dan talked and Mary listened and they both enjoyed time spent together. Mary would love to have something more romantic like that nice evening stroll along the shore of softly whispering sea…or candlelit dinner (cooked by mum) in her place but…but she was too shy to ask Dan and Dan never offered and he never see her back home after pub so she didn't have an opportunity to suggest a night cup or whatever.

(A propos, although Mary never had this candlelit dinner with Dan she thought it over up to

the minute detail. Menu for example included mum's specialities: stuffed quails, salad "Gourmet" for starter and grapes for the dessert. Mary thought grapes were very sexy food, she watched too much TV I'm afraid.

Even though her romance with Dan didn't seem to move forwards Mary was happy. Then one day everything changed. It started one sunny day when she came on the courts to play as usual. While she was walking towards theirs, she saw The Bitch approaching it from the opposite side. At first Mary thought that she was mistaken as The Bitch was anything but a fan of sports and games but unfortunately she was right. As usual The Bitch had John with her. John was wearing full tennis attire while she had a smart light-grey three piece on.

"Hi, Tom," she said in her hateful languid manner to one of the players, "will you play with John, please? I've come to cheer him to win but nobody wants to take poor baby on their team."

Tom who was the best tennis-player in the hospital and who would never agree to play with Mary even if she would go down on her knees went meekly with John to the court next to Mary's. Dan was late, actually he called Mary and told her that he would be late but she came earlier anyway in case if somebody would try to take their court. Then she saw him running and waving and smiled joyfully: he was so handsome, even John didn't seem to be as fatally attractive as he normally was. They started to play almost at the same time as John and Tom began their match and at first Mary was terribly conscious of The Bitch looking at them. Later she relaxed as the probability of The Bitch taking interest in her playing was infinitely small. She was sitting on the boundary of the two courts so she easily could follow the both matches if she wanted to but she clearly didn't. Her eyes were always on John and Tom, she cheered them both, even applauded from time to time. Mary and Dan finished earlier than the other couple but The Bitch didn't even turn her head to say "goodbye" when they were passing her. They had a pleasant hour in pub. Very pleasant, amazingly pleasant, awesomely pleasant as Dan was more excited than ever and made Mary laugh all the time. Back home Mary thought that even a presence of The Bitch didn't spoil her day and sighed ecstatically. It never happened before. She considered it her personal triumph. The rest of the evening she spent in agreeable agitation trying to guess why Dan was so animated, thinking that she knew the answer and wondering how soon he would ask her on a date. Their first real date! She hoped that it would happen at the weekend and fantasised how that would be. (Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant!)

Mary thought so much about Dan and their weekend together that she started believing her dreams. Unfortunately Dan knew nothing about that. And so weekend came and went and nothing happened.

On Monday Dan was on the courts as usual and John and The Bitch were there too.

This time she brought a book with her and wore more casual clothes. She followed the match for a while – this time she didn't even have to ask Tom, he was already waiting – then took her jacket off and started sunbathing. The weather indeed was very warm although evening sun was gradually losing its strength.

Yet The Bitch was steadily shedding off her clothes and all the men on the courts paid more attention to her than to their games. Dan didn't play well that day either. He looked irritated and Mary remembered that he had the same expression on his face when he asked Jo about necessity of The Bitch's presence on their committee. She felt very warm inside and loved Dan even more.

Trouble started on Wednesday when John and The Bitch, this time in a snow-white tracksuit, appeared again. Wednesdays were for playing doubles only, so Mary was intrigued what John would do: he didn't have a partner.

As she learned soon, he was going to play with her and Dan. At least that was what Steve, the organiser of double matches, decided.

"Perhaps you can play with John like two against one," he said uneasily.

"Or, perhaps," said John smiling to The Bitch like an idiot, "we can persuade you to play?"

"O dear!" Mary whispered to Dan. "We must do something quickly or the game will be spoilt completely."

"Why?" Dan asked. "Is she so bad?"

"Look at her, does she strike you as a tennis player? But that's not the point. The point is

that John will make a total fool of himself hopping and fussing around her all the time. It wouldn't be the game. It would be a disaster."

While she was telling that The Bitch took off her tracksuit. Under it she was wearing a charming white tennis dress looking so great that at Wimbledon she could get all the prizes in singles, doubles, juniors' or veterans', ladies' or men's, provided that the referee and the audience would be men exclusively.

Mary was right. The game was a total disaster. The Bitch turned out to be an absolutely smashing player while Dan showed how bad a loser he could be. Each time he thought that Mary made a mistake he hissed like all the cobras in the world gathered together. Mary was getting more and more nervous and as a result of that, or something else, they lost. Dan gave her a murderous look and left without even saying good-bye. Mary felt horrible, humiliated and deprived of one of her most cherished pleasures of life.

Next Monday though he was his usual self. Neither The Bitch, nor John showed and Mary again enjoyed a nice evening with Dan. He told her that he got a letter from his mum that morning with the news about his sister getting married and so in July he was going home for the wedding. Accidentally she learned that he didn't like poultry but was partial to pork. Mary immediately made some mental changes in her perfect menu for the perfect dinner.

Neither John, nor his nasty companion appeared on the courts on Wednesday and Mary decided that The Bitch lost interest in tennis. Mary saw them during that week only once, on Friday. It was Millie's birthday and Millie was a receptionist who was liked by everyone. Mary went to wish her happy birthday and John was there and then he grabbed giggling Millie in his arms and carried her around the floor shouting that the heavenly body like she shouldn't have to trot a humble ground. Millie was petite and John was big and strong and he could carry on like that for eternity if The Bitch wouldn't appear from nowhere. She said: "Having fun, dear?" and that was enough for the merriness to die immediately. John put Millie down looking just like a scolded dog and Mary hated The Bitch more than ever.

Even if before she thought it wasn't possible.

Then she saw Dan. His eyes were set on John and Mary didn't understand their expression.

But she didn't like it anyway.

On Monday there was still no sight of The Bitch on the courts just as Mary expected. John didn't come either (naturally). After the game Dan smiling awkwardly excused himself from having a drink with Mary and vanished. Mary was disappointed but what could she do? She got changed and went slowly towards the bus stop: now she didn't drive her car on Mondays because of their visits to pub. Her bus finally came but instead of taking it she walked away. She popped into "their" pub but without Dan it was dull and uninviting. The tables were dirty, people were annoyingly loud and it smelled funny there. So she finished her drink hastily, left the place and went through the narrow streets to the seaside. It was getting rather dark now and there were quite a few couples strolling their way through the evening. They talked, or kept silent, or laughed that special muffled laugh which is well-known to all the people who are or were romantically involved. Mary felt more and more blue. She wanted to be just like people around her: she wanted to have somebody by her side. No, not somebody, Dan! They would talk and laugh too and he would hold her exactly like a man in front of her was holding his woman. Gently and lovingly.

The man in front of her even resembled Dan. Funnily enough the girl with him resembled The Bitch.

In fact…in fact they were The Bitch and Dan!

Mary stopped abruptly. She was terrified by the thought that they could turn around, see her and decide that she was spying on them. She ran all the way to the bus stop. When she returned home she felt feverish and nothing helped against it, no matter how many mugs of tea she had or how warmly she was wrapping herself in. She didn't sleep much that night. Or many other nights afterwards.

Thinking of Dan, dreaming of Dan and waking up in tears without Dan.


	7. Chapter 7

"Bitch!" Kitty said with feeling when Mary finished her story.

"She is a bitch undoubtedly," said Elisabeth, "but I don't have a high opinion about him either. Forget him, Mary, he's not worth it. Jane will find you a nice young man in your cup, the one who will appreciate your qualities and who will be OK. Right, Jane?"

"Actually," said Jane looking into Mary's cup, "there's somebody here for you but it's not going to happen right now. You have to wait until summer at least."

"I can wait till summer." Mary said looking at her with her big honest eyes.

She was so happy to be with her friends, to feel their concern and support that even her loss didn't seem that tragic. After all who was Dan? Some ordinary guy, rather good-looking but ordinary. Full of that stupid stories about that stupid Australia…

…oh, Dan, I will miss you so much!

Kitty's cup didn't promise anything interesting or new. (Thank God for that, said Kitty.) Elisabeth when finished her coffee went to the sink and washed her cup. What are you doing, squeaked Lydia but Elisabeth waved her hand resolutely.

"I'm not looking at mine. I-am-not-looking-at-mine!" Jane said to herself and nevertheless did it. She didn't expect to see what she saw. On the "heart" side of her cup there were three figures. Two of them were holding hands while the third one stood apart. The part of the cup behind the third figure was impenetrably dark. What's this, thought Jane with her heart pounding. This month she saw Charles four times, once every week and time they spent together was wonderful, better than the best dream. In a way there was nothing astonishing in it, the more Jane got to know Charles the more remarkable, unbelievable and unique she found him. In other words, she was head over the heels with him. She wasn't entirely sure about his attitude: he was too controlled. Yet on their last date she sensed something different in him. She had a distinctive feeling that he wanted to tell her…

…to tell her something…

…something important?

Like ask her to leave Adam for him?

Before she saw her cup she was in doubts what she would tell him if he did that but now things changed. She saw it in her cup. She believed her cup. You can't flee away from your fate, she said to herself. She was frightened, happy and anticipating. She didn't think about her husband. She didn't even think about her children. She knew that one way or another everything would be arranged.

One way or another?

By the way Elisabeth's guests didn't get the original dessert she made for them (a gooseberry pie) because while it was cooling Patrick came in just to say "hello!" and feeling absolutely exhausted of such physical and intellectual exercise he ate half of it to support his fading strength. She couldn't prevent it because Superstar called at the very moment Pat was entering her flat and she went to her bedroom for a bit of privacy. So as a substitute to the gooseberry pie the girls got _Baked Alaska_. Now, if you're as good a cook as Mary take my advice: never attempt to make it with your own fair hands but buy this treat from a supermarket. You see, I know for sure that Mary tried baking it once. The result was slightly disappointing, instead of delightful sweet-sour-cold-hot dessert she got a revolting soggy mess.

To get a real taste of her new habitat Elisabeth took a week off after moving in. It was her first break this year and she thoroughly enjoyed it. She spent daytime making small home improvements or just finding new places for her numerous ornaments, places where they had better lighting or just looked nicer. She went to bed luxuriously late and then snuggled in it till almost midday. She didn't mind to live a life of recluse for a while and willingly cut herself from the humanity with the exception of short trips to the local food store and telephone conversations with her mother, the girls and Superstar.

She was unpleasantly surprised when on the fifth day of such heavenly existence Lydia appeared on her threshold.

"He's not calling," she said, "he's vanished. I haven't heard from him from that night! I wanted to call him myself, but I can't. I can do a lot of things but I can't call a man. You have to call him. And invite him here…like for a cup of coffee or a neighbourly drink. You're the best mates, so you can do it."

"He's probably busy, I'm not sure that he'll be happy if I'll call him without a reason."

"But you have a reason: coffee. Actually you have two reasons: coffee and me. You've got to help me with my private life, you're my friend. And you slept with my boyfriend at school, you see: you owe me!"

After a while Elisabeth gave up. "Serves him right", she thought vengefully dialling Patrick's number, "I warned him not to mess with my friends".

"Elisabeth, admit it: you're a telepath." Pat said merrily. "I was just going to call you. Put your worst clothes on, we're invited for … damn, I've forgotten the name of that thing we're going to eat. Something Asian."

"Why do I have to wear my worst clothes?"

"Because before eating this thing we have to make it."

"Sounds exciting," said Elisabeth cheerlessly, "I don't think I'm up to it."

"Of course, you are!" Pat said and as some kind of weird echo Lydia angrily hissed behind her back: "Of course, you are!"

"I'm not alone." Elisabeth said hoping that Pat would take a hint but he just hanged on her.

"Who is he?" he shouted jubilantly three seconds later storming into her flat.

Whatever he felt seeing Lydia instead of some hypothetical man he concealed it beautifully and Elisabeth mentally applauded him.

"Hi, Lydia," he said smiling nicely, "I thought Elisabeth-the-bad-girl is back shagging energetically a passing-by baker or a candlestick maker. Are you still in faithfulness, chastity and all that, Elisabeth?"

"Shut up. What do you want?"

"Eat. Let's go, they're waiting for us."

Any resistance was futile. Pat wanted them to go, Lydia was only too eager to go, Elisabeth couldn't do anything against their combined power and in no time she found herself in an old uncomfortable and rather neglected flat in Central London. There were a few people she thought she saw before with Pat while Lydia was happy to find one of her Brightonian friends. "Faith had worked in our hospital too but then she moved to London, to King's," she explained as if Elisabeth really cared. Faith was a very good-looking woman in her late thirties and when Elisabeth saw how she looked at Pat she said to herself: "uh-oh".

It was a bizarre but pleasant and carefree party. Their host was an Asian man who came to the UK for his PhD. Unfortunately Elisabeth didn't catch his name. Neither did she learn the name of the dish they were preparing in such harmony.

As I already said Elisabeth liked cooking and she didn't mind all this chopping of carrots and onions in an enormous quantity though she thought that it would be much faster and more effective to do that with the help of a food processor. But their host was as horrified by the idea as if she had proposed to castrate him. He insisted that all the ingredients had to be prepared accordingly to the ancient recipe otherwise the dish wouldn't have a proper taste. Elisabeth later cooked it at home her own (not ancient) way with the help of the modern gadgets. The taste was exactly the same while the time of preparation reduced by five times.

The dish was highly appreciated. Partly it happened because they all participated in making it. The only thing nobody was let to do was cutting meat. Their host did that himself. The other men didn't insist on helping him and the women weren't offered the honour. They were explained graciously that there were two things women never had to be allowed near: the modern technology and the meat. The reason according to him was the same: women weren't capable to understand either. Elisabeth noticed how Faith's eyes lit up dangerously: she was a computer programmer and a very good one as Lydia told to Elisabeth. Fortunately it was just the beginning of their evening and everyone was yet rather sober and cool-headed. Faith managed to compose herself.

And nothing happened.

The more they ate and drank, the more they relaxed. Elisabeth was rather surprised to see their host drinking alcohol with them because she always thought that it was forbidden in the region he came from.

"Not all of us abide the laws word for word," he laughed when she asked him about that, "I, for example, have only one wife at home."

"Though," he added winking to Elisabeth, "I don't mind to have one here too."

Elisabeth smiled politely showing him that she valued his exquisite sense of humour but at the same time not giving him any hope that he could get closer with her. She certainly wasn't interested. A bit later he started to show them how they were really supposed to eat their food: he made small balls of rice and meat with his fingers and then put them into everyone's mouth. Elisabeth thought it quite a disgusting habit and before her turn came up she left the table and went into the sitting room. Others joined her soon. They danced a bit and drank more and Elisabeth wasn't happy to see Patrick dancing with either Lydia or Faith and keeping a very smug expression on his face. He was thoroughly amused. Later she watched Faith having a really heated debate with their host about the role of a woman in society. It seemed that he met his match as Faith gave an impression of a hardened feminist. When slightly curious Elisabeth came closer to them Faith was saying:

"And how can you justify these horrible burkas or veils or whatever you make them to wear?"

"You really think it's better for a woman to go around half-naked so all the men can glare at her legs or breasts?"

"But it's you who glare at us. We don't glare at you, so why to cover women from head to toes?"

"Because women are weak. They always try to seduce men and they often succeed in that."

"Don't be seduced then," Elisabeth thought angrily, "because, I can assure you no matter how we're covered or uncovered we do it for our own convenience and I personally don't care at all whether I seduce somebody or not. For me there's only one man – MY man, others simply don't exist."

She was astonished by her mental outburst but she was so mad with Pat that she couldn't stop it. As if waiting for something like that to happen Pat immediately materialised by her side chewing a piece of cheese pie brought by one of the guests.

"I haven't yet danced with you tonight." Patrick said to Elisabeth.

"So we are terribly faithful now," he continued when they were moving languidly across the floor in some dark and empty room, "we finally met the One and other poor bastards don't exist for us anymore, hah?"

"And how it feels if I put my hand here and do something like that?" he asked. "Anything? Nothing?"

Elisabeth had to admit to herself that it felt great but she pushed his hand away and said crossly:

"Get lost, Pat! I'm not interested in you and your stupid tricks. Tell me, better, why are you doing that?"

"Just to check the level of your faithfulness."

"I'm not talking about _that_."

"What are you talking about then?"

"You know very well what I'm talking about. Faith and Lydia. You can sleep with all the women in the world and in any order, it's none of my business. But you shouldn't have to invite us here knowing that Faith would be present."

"Who told you that I slept with Faith?" Pat asked indignantly.

"Didn't you?"

"No."

"You know, it's the first time you've lied to me." Elisabeth said sadly.

"Alright, I've slept with her a couple of times," admitted Pat grudgingly, "what's the big deal?"

"And now you're having kicks of seeing them together, yeah?"

"My mistake. What do you want me to do now? Repent and go to monastery?"

"It will be best of all if you can leave quietly before the scandal starts."

"As you wish, master." Pat said sardonically and disappeared.

When Elisabeth returned to the room where the others were Lydia grabbed her hand and pull her into the distant corner.

"What were you talking about?" she demanded. "Did he ask about me? What did he ask? What did you tell? By the way where is he?"

"He's left. There were a few things he had to take care of."

"What things? Are you mad? Call him immediately and make him come back."

In vain Elisabeth tried to convince her that Pat wasn't going to return. Lydia insisted, stomped her foot and nearly shouted. Eventually she got what she wanted as she usually did.

"He's not answering the phone." Elisabeth said when they both listened to at least ten rings.

"Try again." Lydia demanded.

And so Elisabeth tried and tried and tried. Ages later she gave up.

"I'm sorry, Lydia, he's not home. Maybe he went to his parents."

"Do you know their number?"

"I certainly don't! And now I'm leaving. I'm really tired and want to get to bed more than anything else. Are you coming with me?"

"What for? If Pat isn't there I don't see the reason for me to stay with you overnight. I'll better go home with Faith. It looks like she knows Pat fairly well so we can talk and maybe I'll learn something knew from her that even you don't know."

"Be careful," said Elisabeth before thinking.

"Careful? Why?"

"She and Pat can be closer than you think." Elisabeth said unwillingly.

"Are you nuts? Faith is married and happily too. I know her husband, he's a great person and they're madly in love with each other."

"Whatever."

"No, really, Elisabeth, what's wrong with you? Now when you finally decided to settle down I would expect you to start changing. And first of all you have to work on your opinion about other people. You can't believe that everyone is like you or like you've been before. I don't mention your appalling attitude to Pat which I don't like at all. I can accept the fact that he had some women before me but why on Earth you always picture him as some Casanova? It rather offends me, you know, especially now when I want to go steady with him."

Elisabeth looked at her friend with some disdainful pity, shrugged her shoulders and moved towards the door goodbyeing to the left and to the right so to speak and firmly refusing to try some traditional stuffed pumpkin made personally by their host.

When Elisabeth came out of the building trying to figure out what would be faster: to take a bus or to find a taxi a dark shadow separated itself from the wall and walked towards her.

"Why are you here?" Elisabeth asked recognising Patrick.

"I've brought you here, I'm taking you back," he said firmly, "do you mind to walk home?"

"You want to walk?" Elisabeth asked incredulously knowing only too well that the only physical exercise Pat recognized was wrestling between the sheets.

And by the way it did keep him fit.

The walk to their house didn't take as much time as Elisabeth thought it would. Perhaps she simply didn't notice how long it was because they were somewhat animatedly discussing various issues.

"Are you still faithful?" Pat asked.

"You asked me the same question fifteen minutes ago," she said, "give it at least half an hour."

"Can you tell me honestly that you don't even want to screw somebody? I don't mean somebody specific, just a pure sex for sex."

"Yes, I want," said Elisabeth tiredly, "what have you expected me to say?

"Great! Let's have a f***. I won't tell anybody. Cross my heart!"

"Get lost, Pat. What's wrong with you today? You're talking rubbish, rubbish and even more rubbish."

"I don't know," he said unexpectedly, "maybe I'm jealous."

"Jealous? Of whom?"

"Of you. But it's not just envy that you've finally found somebody you really care of and I'm still all by myself. I'm also afraid that we won't be as good friends as we've been before."

"Elisabeth," he continued after a minute pause, "do you think I'll ever meet somebody special like you have?"

What could she say?

"Of course, you will," she promised and he grinned with relief as if he really believed her words.

She gave him a friendly squeeze in front of her door and when he hugged her back there was nothing sensual in that.

First thing Elisabeth did in her flat was to check her messages on the answering machine. There was one from Superstar and she smiled listening to his voice. He promised to call her in the morning as he was leaving for the place where she couldn't reach him. He was making a new movie and that kept him busy and didn't let to think about her too much. On the contrary Elisabeth had nothing to do and missed him every minute.

She took a shower. When she went out of the bathroom she realised that she didn't want to sleep after all. Instead of it she felt rather peckish which was strange as she recently had an ample meal. Nevertheless she went through her fridge and cupboards and at the end made herself some salad.

She snuggled comfortably on the sofa with her salad and a glass of juice, switched on TV but before she had time to pick a programme the telephone rung.

"How did you know?" Lydia shouted without explanation. "Did he tell you?"

"Hi, Lydia," said Elisabeth gloomily.

"Faith told me everything on our way to Brighton. Can you imagine how stupid I would look if I'd start first? And I was going to as a matter of fact. But she was faster. You know what she told me? That Pat left the party because of her. That he was mad seeing her dancing with what's-his-name, you know, the one with the goatee and that was the reason why he danced with me. She also told me that they knew each other for a while but there was nothing between them until two weeks ago. And then she tried to tell me how wonderful and passionate he was and if not for today's stupid misunderstanding she was going to have sex with him again in his place! How do you like that?"

"I don't," said Elisabeth as soothingly as she could, "but I've warned you, Lydia. Pat is a sort of person you don't take into your head. Or heart. Some other place – yes and without restrictions. And then it's very important to remember the main principle: enjoy and let the others enjoy too."

"You don't listen to me, do you? He slept with her at that very time when I was waiting for him."

"No, it's you who isn't listening. Has he ever promised you anything?"

"You're impossible," said Lydia, "I've thought you're on my side. I'm warning you, soon you will have to decide whether you are his friend or mine."

With those words she hanged on and Elisabeth sighed with relief but she switched her phone off. Just in case.

Next day Lydia called again.

"Do you know his e-mail address?" she asked and Elisabeth gave her his official one.

He had another address too but she wasn't sure that he would be happy if she shared it with Lydia.

"I'm going to send him a letter." Lydia said. "Do you want me to read it to you?"

The question was purely rhetoric as she started to read it at once.

_I fell in love_ (it started) _before_ _that_ _it was lik__e being lost in the heart of a gloomy uninviting forest. There could be wild hungry animals behind every trunk waiting for me and no sound penetrated the sinister darkness of the thicket. But you came and everything changed: birds were singing and big bright butterflies were sitting on the big bright flowers and the forest turned to be a lovely park. We were great together and I grew to believe that it would last forever._

_And then I was betrayed._

_I don't know what has happened, I only know that it hasn't been my fault. My heart is broken but perhaps I'm overreacting. I hope your answer will make everything clear. Or you can call me, I'm at home whole day long. But if you'd decide to come it would be even better._

_Lydia _

"What do you think?" she asked rather cheerfully.

"I think it's a lovely letter and it will get even lovelier if you won't send it."

"Of course I will send it. He will read it, understand his mistakes and come to me."

"No, he won't. It will scare him away and he won't contact you at all. Lydia, you've got to accept the fact: he doesn't want a commitment of any sort. He likes women. Different women every time."

"Nonsense! It's either I or Faith and who will get him first. With the help of my letter I will have him and she won't."

"I wash my hands," said Elisabeth resignedly, "don't blame me if things won't go your way."

"What? Oh, alright, alright. I had no idea that you were such a defeatist. Anyway, don't call me today: I want to keep my line free."

I can promise that to you with great pleasure, Elisabeth thought uncharitably.

Lydia didn't call her anymore but Pat visited her in the evening.

"You always have a lot of delicious food," he said plaintively, "can you feed me: I'm hungry."

She just finished cooking for herself and as often made too much, she was only happy to share her supper with him.

"I've got _bitki _with vegetables," she said, "fancy some?"

"Sounds revolting. What are they?"

"Burgers."

"You and your Polish blood! Why can't you call things by their proper English names?"

"Burger isn't an English word and I'm not sure that _bitki _is Polish though it certainly came from the neighbourhood."

"I've got an e-mail from your friend," he said when they finished, "you know about it, of course."

"I'm aware of it, yes." Elisabeth said cautiously.

"Have you read it?"

"I was read it. Over the phone."

"Quite a pretty letter." Pat said airily.

"You are a jerk!" Elisabeth exploded. "I've never expected such callousness from you."

"Oh purle-ese! I hoped you would find it as funny as I did. Please, don't try to persuade me that I've really broken her heart. I haven't even broken her ego. She's still a hundred percent sure that she will get me."

"I'm not talking about Lydia. True, I'm not concerned much about her heart and like you I'm sure that it's just a whim. But I've lost my peace totally: she calls, she comes here and she talks about you all the time. I can't live like that anymore."

"What will I get if I'll take her off your back forever?"

"Nothing. It was all your fault in the first place."

"Think again. I'm offering you peace you're longing for."

"OK. What do you want?"

"Love, adoration, friendship and food like this from time to time. And you can scrap love and adoration, if you want."

"You've got a deal." Elisabeth said smiling.

"Where's your computer then?"

That's what he wrote.

_Dear Lydia!_

_I read your beautiful, beautiful_ _letter _("aren't there too much _beautiful_," Elisabeth asked, "you're overdoing it" and he said: "nah, six would be too much, two is just right")_ and I felt really proud that I could concur a heart of a woman like you. If I made you suffer, please, forgive me: I didn't mean to. I couldn't imagine that somebody like you would take me seriously. If only I knew… It's too late for our happiness now. I've met a woman, not as exquisite and unique like you, but still nice and kind-hearted. Yesterday after the party I popped the question and she said "yes". So we're engaged now. Oh wonderful, wonderful creature, forgive me and forget me. _

…_And I know that I'll never forget you._

_Patrick_

"She will never swallow it." Elisabeth said.

"With her self-esteem? Oh yes, she will. But perhaps I will take the last sentence away. Or she will think that she can try to separate me and my kind-hearted woman."

"What if she will really suffer?" Elisabeth asked, she thought about somebody like Mary in Lydia's position and felt rather uncomfortable.

"Elisabeth, why do you have such a low opinion of me? I never have flings with the women who have hearts. It's too dangerous and I'm a very careful person always crossing the road on the green lights and never eating ice-cream in the winter. Now tell me what you'll cook for me tomorrow?"

"Wait a second! At first I have to be sure that it has worked."

"It will, you can take my word for that."

"I don't think that I will take your word for anything."

"Have it your way then. Just tell me what you would cook for me in case if I were right and you were wrong."

"I don't know. What would you like?"

"For the main meal or for the dessert?"

"Is there any limit for your impertinency?"

"No."

"What about sweet chicken? That way you will have a 2-course meal in one."

"I'm not sure that I like the idea. I'd rather have 1-course meal of five or more dishes."

Lydia called Elisabeth two minutes later. She was full of pathos and self-sacrifice. For a quarter of an hour she spoke about nothing but Patrick's future happiness, then much to Elisabeth's relief she told her that regrettably she won't be able to discuss the matter with Elisabeth anymore. For the time being.

"But of course," said Lydia, "the day will come when my heart will mend and you and I will be sitting comfortably in your place or mine remembering the past in a sweet and light manner."

"Amen!" Elisabeth said putting the receiver down.

"Am I getting my meal?" Pat asked worriedly.

"What about mine?" thought Terry the Cat snoozing comfortably on Patrick's feet shod in long multi-coloured socks he brought home from Bulgaria as a souvenir.

Elisabeth was still cat-sitting.


	8. Chapter 8

A week later Lydia ringed again but this time her call had nothing to do with Pat.

"It's about Jane," she said, "she's finally moving and invites us to her new place for a sort of a garden party."

Jane and her family moved to Brighton only a few months before she met Lydia. They rented a flat for a year while looking for a suitable accommodation. Finally they found one they all loved. It was in Lewes Crescent, one of the most pleasant places in Brighton. The four-bedroom flat accommodating on two levels had a splendid living room and plenty of space for children including a playroom, their own computer room and last but not least an endless corridor where a person with enough imagination and tolerant neighbours could roller-skate, play football or simply run to and fro shouting like mad with emotions. For them who don't know Brighton very well I can tell that one of the best features of the Lewes Crescent is its beautiful common garden. It gorgeous at any time of the year as it has a very good gardener, but in summer time it's heavenly.

Those who know Brighton very well but have never lived in Lewes Crescent probably aren't aware that there is a secret tunnel which starts in this garden, runs under the sea-front road and opens straight to the beach. The tunnel has a small inconspicuous gate on the outside and people passing it sometimes look pretty surprised seeing somebody getting out through it. They said that the one and only Lewis Carroll turned this particular tunnel into that famous Rabbit Hole. I don't know whether it's true or not but the fact is he used to stay with his friends on Sussex Square which is adjacent to Lewes Crescent.

In this enchanted garden Jane entertained her friends one beautiful afternoon at the end of June. They took out rugs and cushions and numerous plates and bowls. Jane made a delightful cold lunch of many delicious things of which the best were oriental chicken salad and salad with fried aubergines.

The month which passed from their last party was rather uneventful for almost all of them. Kitty and Lawrence lived like they lived before Hippopotamus' party pretending that nothing had ever happened with Kitty acting as if she didn't know about her husband's affair and him trying to forget that he ever had one. Mary was again without a partner for the Wednesdays' doubles as Dan blushing and stammering told her that he couldn't play with her anymore. Although she didn't ask him why to spare him from even more uncomfortable explanation, Dan still hated her for him being horrible to her. That's human logic to you.

As for Lydia, she consumed her grief and a total disappointment in life in such huge quantities that if her misery were food she would put on about twenty stone. She bought three black dresses as a tribute to her mourning. Needless to say all of them were evening dresses. Elisabeth was still leading a life of a nun though she flew to America for a long weekend with Superstar who was still terribly busy with his new film. Patrick said later that she returned looking as smug as a cat which found a gallon of cream and dealt with it accordingly.

"God, am I happy to see you or not?" were his first words with which he greeted her storming into her flat.

"What's up?" Elisabeth asked coolly knowing very well what was up.

"You promised to take care of me and left for three days! And what for? For pure sin! One of the deadliest as a matter of fact. Was he good?"

"I don't know if that's any of your business…but yes, he was terrific! I think I'm even more in love than ever."

"Look at you! You disgust me, woman! You gloat over your puny little affairs while I'm slowly and painfully dying of hunger right in front of your eyes. And that's after you sworn to become my second mother!"

"I don't remember promising you anything like that."

"Liar! You told me that you would cook for me. Where's my dinner? Did you really fly in his personal jet?"

"Yes." Elisabeth said smiling.

"You have to tell me all about that. Over the meal. I'll go and fetch a bottle to toast your happy return and you cook something. Something easy. But nice. And not necessarily easy."

So she cooked him pork "_Collier_" and for that he had to listen to her full report about the weekend with Superstar. Terry the Cat was luckier: he was already back to Elisabeth's mum.

Kitty was the first to detect that something was wrong with Jane. After learning about Lawrence's unfaithfulness Kitty changed a lot. Before she belonged to that happy type who thought only good things of the world around shutting eyes and ears not only to the faults of _thy neighbour_ but also to one's misery and distress. Now she became pretty thin-skinned and that was why she sensed Jane's sadness while Mary, Elisabeth and Lydia didn't notice anything. When confronted Jane at first tried to convince her friends that everything was alright but then cracked.

Jane never befriended anyone before. She grew a quiet secretive child who didn't get close with other schoolchildren or even with the one of her numerous and outgoing cousins. She married a suitable young man when she was nineteen. It was almost pre-arranged marriage as they both came from extended families of old-fashioned traditions and their grandmothers were great friends. They led serene and moneyed existence with Jane homemaking and her husband being a true workaholic like all the men in his or Jane's family. Charles was her first love and Kitty, Mary, Lydia and Elisabeth were here first soul mates. During the last months they all were through a lot together and Jane learned how supportive a friendly sympathy could be. That's why in the end she risked to confide her secret to them.

"I don't believe it!" said Kitty when Jane told them the part you already know. "You, you're having an affair? It's impossible. It's rubbish. It can't be! Can it?"

"Actually, I'm not," said Jane, "not anymore. He dumped me."

"Oh no," said Mary tearfully, "this is even worse. What happened?"

When Jane met Charles first time after Elisabeth's housewarming party she had already made up her mind. For the last months she felt as if she dwelled in two different Universes. In one there were Adam, and her boys, and home, and old, uneventful, convenient yet so bleak, life. It was always sunny in the other because the entire Universe rotated around one brighter than bright sun.

Charles.

She, Jane, nice, timid, mousy Jane, Jane-with-whom-nothing-ever-happens, lived two lives and she was tired of this duality and wanted to have only one. With Charles.

They had a pleasant lunch in a little welcoming seafood restaurant but Jane was too nervous to enjoy her food. She was preparing herself for the vital step. Charles didn't look his usual confident self either. He started first.

"We have to talk," he said, "we are friends, aren't we? So I can talk to you openly and sincerely, can't I?"

Jane didn't like him calling her his friend, that wouldn't be how she would describe their relationship, but she was impatient to hear what he wanted to say even if she believed that she knew what it would be all about. One fine writer said that there is no woman in the world who doesn't know about forthcoming proposal. Unfortunately in Jane's case it wasn't about forthcoming proposal even if she expected it and nothing else.

"I'm thinking about going back to Canada," said Charles meanwhile.

Jane froze with her forkful of fish "_Caspian_" in the air.

Canada, Jane thought in dismay, why Canada? I don't know that I can live there and kids…what if Adam won't allow them to leave the UK?

"Why Canada," she said, "aren't you happy with your job here?"

She didn't say "with your life" because his life included her and he couldn't be unhappy with her. Why would he?

"It's not the job," he answered, "it's a woman."

"A woman?" Elisabeth asked thinking that she misheard Jane.

"A woman?" Lydia repeated with the same intonation although she didn't have any intention to do that.

Her name was Jacqueline and Charles met her when he was still working in Canada. They had a one night stand and parted for never to see each other again. But we can plan and plan and then Her Majesty Fate interfere and everything goes off the rail. In Charles' case it was his second encounter with Jacqueline during some business conference in Florida.

"And this "second encounter" happened precisely when?" Elisabeth asked suspiciously.

"Last month," said Jane miserably.

She felt such a fool. Last month they were still making love to each other. Last month she was thinking about leaving Adam. True, last month Charles did start to behave oddly but she thought it was because he too wanted them to be together.

He recognised Jacqueline immediately, she in her turn didn't recognise him at all. He didn't like that. Charles belonged to the category of men who thought that they were absolutely unforgettable and each woman they met had to remember them every night with utter gratitude in her heart. Such a God's gift! He tried to talk to Jacqueline but she was always with somebody, he sought her company but she was too busy. Yet the Fate, old joker, made them neighbours in the hotel in which they stayed. The last day of the conference was oppressively hot but there was heavy rain later in the evening and when it stopped everything outside was clean, refreshed and joyful. After dinner Charles went with a few colleagues to the restaurant bar. From it they moved to another and in the end he lost count how many similar establishments they had visited. He wasn't drunk when they returned to the hotel, only happy, he didn't want to sleep even if it was way after midnight and went to the balcony for a smoke. He didn't smoke normally but from time to time he enjoyed an occasional cigarette. He was intrigued by soft rhythmical ra-ta-ta-tat coming from the left. He leaned forward and saw Jacqueline smoking too and at the same time typing frantically on her laptop. He called her name, he had to do it twice before she lifted her head and looked at him briefly. Then she turned her attention back to the computer. Perhaps if he had not one drink too many he would never dare to do what he did after that: he climbed to her balcony. Their rooms weren't on dramatic seventh or head-spinning thirty seventh floor, no, they were on second one but it didn't diminish the romantic touch of his gesture.

"Why did you do that?" Jacqueline said unemotionally resuming her work.

"I wanted to talk."

"Why?"

"Can't sleep. The night is too beautiful to waste it."

"I don't waste it."

"I haven't seen you in the restaurant tonight. Did you have your dinner somewhere else?"

"Didn't have it at all."

"Shame. We had most delicious meal. Their chef is a genius. Why don't they give Nobel prizes for cooking?"

"M-mm."

"Look, whatever you do is it so important right now? It's our last night here, let's have a drink together or something and talk."

"What about?" she said with some surprise but nevertheless he ordered them drinks and she accepted hers obediently.

At the beginning it was he who did most of the talking but gradually she relaxed, started to smile and respond. They also continued drinking. Much later he managed to get her in bed. He tried very hard and she seemed to be exhausted by his efforts. Yet when he woke up her side of the bed was empty with Jacqueline bending on the balcony over her laptop.

"Come here!" he called her in that tender yet demanding voice men allow themselves after a successful night, or at least what they thought was a successful night.

She didn't even bother to answer so to feel himself a real man and a master of the situation he had to go outside and bring her back to the bed. In the movies the hero always manage to carry his woman and very elegantly too, in real life very few can achieve the same effect, Charles didn't belong to those few but had no doubts that he did.

Jacqueline in the morning wasn't the same as she was during "the night of passion" although to be truthful she wasn't particularly enthusiastic during the night either. She was detached, inattentive and cold, and for her Charles wasn't a God's gift at all. Awww, poor li'l Charles. No wonder that he lost his head over her completely.

For the next two weeks he called her with persistence which would make Lydia to look like a shy little baby. In her office her secretary invariably answered that Ms Monroe wasn't available, couldn't talk or had a meeting. At home her answering machine in a voice which spookily reminded that of the secretary informed politely that Jacqueline wasn't in and offered to leave a message. There is no need to say that she didn't answer any of his messages. Finally when he was ready to fly to Canada and spend a week on her doormat her secretary called and read him Jacqueline's letter who sounded much more like some memo. It said that she was leaving for France for a week and if he could join her there she would be happy to entertain him in her summerhouse. He was there before her and waited in the airport for her flight landing with a half of a local flower shop in his hands.

She didn't come.

Well, she did but not with that flight. Some friend of hers offered her a place in his jet. She also didn't inform Charles in her letter that she was going to France not for a carefree vacation but to finish her new book (no, not fictional, God forbid!) so he spent most of the time in the romantic Mediterranean atmosphere enjoying the sight of the back of her head. Nevertheless when he returned to Britain he knew that he couldn't live without Jacqueline.

"Bastard!" Lydia said but it wasn't clear whether she meant Charles or somebody else she was thinking about at that moment.

"And you really were ready to leave your husband for him?" Kitty asked with sympathy.

Jane nodded. She wasn't sure what she expected from her friends after telling this story. She didn't get any better, the pain and sensation of hollowness were still there. The same pain, the same hollowness she felt when Charles told her about Jacqueline. She thought about Charles and wanted to cry. Instead she said:

"Finish your pudding and let's go back to flat for our coffee round."

The only cup worth of talking about was Mary's. It promised a lot: glorious holiday, tons of new friends and more importantly a real love interest.

"True," said Mary, "I am having my summer break soon but I don't think it's going to be exciting."

"Where do you go?" Lydia asked.

"To Greece. Mum's cousin lives there. She's not a proper cousin, something like second or even third but nevertheless they used to be close with mum although Aunt Debra after getting married hadn't lived in Britain much. Her husband worked for some company which always built airports in the most obscure places so they travelled all around the world and when he died she went to live in Greece. She liked the country very much, climate and all. Also her husband was half-Greek so there were a lot of friends and relatives there. Her son moved in with her recently and she wanted me to spend my break in their new house.

"Her son, hah?" Kitty said. "You said that she is a very distant relation, didn't you?"

"Oh, no, not Nick," said Mary making a face, "Nick is the dullest person in the world and only interested in his books."

"What books?"

"I don't know. Learning stuff. Whatever he read in Uni."

"Oh, I see. He is still in Uni, then," said Kitty losing interest.

"So what?" Lydia said. "He will be her toy-boy."

"What toy-boy," Mary cried, "he is two years older than I am."

"You said he is in Uni," said Kitty with return of interest, "and I assumed…"

"He was in Uni, when I saw him last time, but it was seven, no, eight years ago."

"Perhaps he changed," Kitty said meditatively, "perhaps…"

"Never," said Mary firmly and everybody understood that it wasn't just Nick dullness she hated about him.

"So it must be one of their Greek relatives," said Kitty hastily, trying to change the subject, "now, that's even better! They all are very romantic – or so I've heard."

"And they're hot," Elisabeth added, "so watch out, Mary."

They sat in a silence for a while musing about possibilities.

"Anyway," said Kitty, "I do hope you will meet somebody nice there, Mary. You do deserve that."

"We all deserve that." Mary said.

And they drink a toast for that.

…The second week of Mary's break started but Nick wasn't giving her a break.

There is no point to hide it: Mary was lazy. It didn't reflect on her work as she was a very conscientious person but outside the hospital (and tennis courts) she liked to do as little as possible. And even less. That's why she lived on sandwiches most of the time and tried to delay the cleaning of her flat till it became difficult to find anything there. She agreed on active winter holidays only because all her relatives loved skiing but her summer vacations she spent as she wished. That is: she usually slept half of the day and sunbathed for the other half turning languidly under the warm southern sun and dipping occasionally into equally warm seawater. She would do the same this time too if only Nick let her. But he didn't. He woke her up practically at the dawn and took her to places of interest (his interest) for sightseeing. After a week of such life Mary made a weak attempt to rebel. She tried to explain Nick that all she wanted was to swim in the sea and get some suntan. To her surprise he didn't argue. What's more he vowed to take her to the most picturesque beach like she never saw in her life.

It took them about forty minutes on his moped to get to the place. She didn't enjoy the ride, she didn't like and didn't trust anything on two wheels. Besides Nick was a pretty reckless driver. But she put up with it because she was looking forward to see the promised place. It simply had to be something outstanding, otherwise their trip didn't make any sense at all: Aunt Debra's house was only three minutes away from the local beach. Of course it wasn't ideal, it was packed with people at any time and there were so many tiny seafront cafes and various food stalls on it that the air instead smelling of freshness and sea salt reeked of fried meat and unrefined olive oil. But worst of all were pebbles, pebbles, pebbles. They were horrible. They were everywhere, the whole beach of pebbles. It was impossible to walk barefoot because of them, and when lying on her rug Mary felt each and every of them through it. "There won't be any pebbles!" said Nick very firmly.

And he was right.

There were no pebbles. Technically there was no beach either. But there was sea, enormous, boundless, omnipotent. When Mary saw it for the first time she decided that he took her to the end of the world where the blue emptiness began straight from the strip of dusty grass she was staying on. Sky was drowning in the sea and the turquoise abyss called and beckoned offering rest to all tired and unhappy.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said Nick in the most ordinary voice. "I hope you haven't forgotten your swimming costume."

He himself was more interested in the contents of his rucksack into which his mum packed some food for their picnic.

When Mary looked at the sea from the top of the hill it seemed painfully blue and translucent. It wasn't so inviting when she (risking to break her legs) climbed down. The water was dark and opaque and Mary couldn't see the bottom. She thought of a sinister and fantastic chasm inhabited by monsters and legends started right from the shore, and shivered.

"Had a nice dip?" Nick asked with care when Mary joined him without even dampen her feet.

She felt like killing him.


	9. Chapter 9

M Vassiliev 13

Every evening numerous Greek relatives of Aunt Debra's husband invited all three of them for some or other family event and Mary learned once and forever who were the most hospitable people on Earth. She also learned that there _can _be too much fun. Her poor head was killing her, she couldn't take any more of loud music and yet louder voices: it seemed that her new friends never talked but shouted. Food was excellent but its quantities scared even Mary. And wine only seemed to be light. As a result she returned home dead tired longing for endless sleep but every morning at half past six Nick appeared on the doorstep of her room with invariable astonishment on his face: "Still in bed?"

Yesterday she suddenly remembered that somebody on the plane recommended her to visit a certain cave or rather chain of caves which were said to be if not eighth then ninth or eleventh wonder of the world. Mary made some enquiries and found out that there was an organised tour to the cave, so she decided to go there. Aunt Debra approved her plans but Nick laughed scornfully at them both.

"You'll be bored to death there," he said, "it's not even a real cave. They practically have marble floors there. If you want to see a genuine cave, I'll take you to the one tomorrow."

In the morning giddy from the lack of rest Mary tried to revive herself with endless cups of coffee while Nick stuffed himself like he hadn't eaten for a fortnight. From time to time he begged her to join him but Mary just shook her head and smiled with badly concealed dislike at her torturer. After yesterday's feast even a thought of food made her nauseous, Nick on the other hand never lost his appetite. "No wonder he's so bulky," thought Mary maliciously, "nobody can eat as much for breakfast without consequences". It wasn't entirely true. Nick wasn't bulky. He was rather powerfully built and not being very tall he looked a bit too broad. He was also dark-haired and his eyes were like black olives. Needless to say that Mary hated his type, she preferred her men tall, slender and fair (just like Dan).

"Where do we go, then," Mary asked trying to divert his attention from her empty plate, "is it a long drive?"

"Not really, no. About fifteen minutes along the motorway."

Nick said the truth. Well, partial truth. They did indeed drive around quarter of an hour along the motorway, this time in a car, then they left it and took some minor route towards the mountains. After that there was an hour or so of head-spinning pirouettes on a mountain road which brought them to a tiny village of a dozen or so houses. A short and slim man standing in front of a pretty yellowish church smiled at them.

"We've got to stop here for a sec," said Nick and jumped out of the car almost before it stopped and threw his arms around poor man neck. Mary closed her eyes ready to hear it snapping but to her surprise both the neck and its miniature owner survived. Nick introduced them. As Mary expected the man had a long and magnificent name which she wouldn't be able to repeat for her dear life. Then she was forgotten about for a while and the man and Nick talked, only it looked more like a quarrel than a conversation and at the end they shouted so vehemently that Mary was afraid they would start killing each other. When they finally drove away she asked Nick what that was all about and he said that his friend enquired about Aunt Debra's health and promised her some new recipe for chicken.

"Do you ride?" Nick asked.

"Ride? Why ride? I've thought we were going to the caves," said Mary getting out of the car because finally after nearly three hours on the road they reached their destination.

"Of course we do."

"Then why do we have to ride?"

Whilst talking they joined a group of other tourists that gathered near the parking lot. Most of them were Greeks.

"Riding a horse is a part of attraction." Nick explained.

Mary wasn't sure about attraction. First of all she had never ridden before. Secondly she was wearing a pretty white dress which she bought specially for the holiday but hadn't yet have a chance to wear it. She liked the dress very much, loved herself in it and doubted that it was appropriate for riding.

"No problem!" Nick said and he did look like a person who never had any problems in life. "You can change."

From the boot of his car he produced a not very clean tracksuit bottoms and a big ugly brown-grey sweater. Mary studied a big spot on the trousers for full three minutes. Although it had an interesting shape of a legless camel she didn't somehow fancy putting the trousers on. Finally she said:

"Perhaps I'll walk while you ride. I rather like walking. Especially in the morning when the air is so fresh and healthy."

"I didn't know that," said Nick listening to her with growing interest, "tomorrow I'll wake you up early and we can walk as long as you want. But now you have to put these clothes on: they will be more suitable in the caves too."

"Why this moron couldn't warn me about that at home," thought Mary in cold rage pulling Nick's stuff on, "God, how I hate him!"

Meanwhile the horses arrived. They looked very peaceful and worn out.

Their guide was even smaller than Nick's friend whom she had met earlier, and could easily play Tom the Thumb in Christmas panto providing that Tom the Thumb had a wild half-inch long stubble. He approached Mary and said in English:

"This is MY HORSE. You ride he!"

The horse was an amazingly unsightly creature of dirty grey colour, or perhaps, it was just grey and dirty, with very long tale and kind intelligent face. The owner looked at it with an expression of a real pride.

"How to mount it?" asked Mary hesitantly.

"I help!" Tom the Thumb said.

Mary thought that he was overoptimistic: he was at least five inch shorter than she and looked nothing like Hercules. Nevertheless she decided to give him a try and put her left foot in the stirrup.

"When our ancestors mounted their horses," said one of the local children with somewhat mechanical intonation but in surprisingly good English, "they always held a spear in their right hand so our ancestors mounted their horses always from the right." OK, smart ass, Mary thought while the parents of a bright youngster beamed at him. In her attempt to climb the horse Mary grabbed the saddle with such vigour that it started to slide towards her depriving the girl of support. In vain she tried to throw her leg over the horseback. After the third go she thought that she understood the mechanics of mounting but unfortunately Tom the Thumb chose that moment to come to her rescue.

Mary had too vivid an imagination. As soon as her petite helper offered his assistance she visualised him holding her pretty ample thigh with unconcealed admiration written all over his unshaven face and began to laugh. She totally forgot that one of her legs was still in the air. Together with the saddle she fell down to the ground still laughing hysterically. Nick who followed her progress with healthy curiosity stepped in and two men's combined efforts were crowned a success.

"You! Take this." Tom the Thumb said giving Mary reins. "He is very clever horse. You pull this he go this way, you pull that he go that way. Pull-pull and he stop."

…And the theory of riding became crystal clear for Mary.

"Go!" said the proud owner of the very clever horse and slapped its back.

It jumped forward with surprising agility. Not so fast, Mary begged silently. It seemed that the horse understood her plea and slowed down. Now they were moving steadily and Mary even began to enjoy the ride. The horse made a couple of circles around the place where Nick, Tom the Thumb and other people and horses were but then it changed its mind and moved away from it.

"My dear," said Mary cautiously, "don't you think we have to return and join the others?"

The horse either couldn't talk at all or didn't speak English on principle. It continued to move forward God knows in what direction. Mary gently pulled "this". No reaction.

"OK, if you don't want to go to the right, let's try to turn to the left." Mary said softly.

Left wasn't an option either. Mary began to tug more persistently and eventually the horse simply stopped. After some consideration Mary realised that she wouldn't be able to dismount and that if nobody would find them she would spend the rest of her days literally in the saddle. The last thought made her to pull the reigns with a tripled zeal and the horse lost its patience. It looked at Mary with offended air, then opened the mouth and showed its enormous yellow teeth. It didn't look friendly any longer.

"I agree with you completely," said Mary hastily, "by the way, when was the last time you cleaned your teeth?"

The horse opened its maw even wider.

"When I'm safely back I will buy you a toothbrush." Mary promised.

The horse closed its mouth, brood over Mary's words and shook its head. Like Mary it suddenly understood that a human toothbrush wouldn't be much of a use for it. It bared its teeth once more moving its mouth slowly but surely towards Mary's knee.

"Of course!" Mary exclaimed. "Shoe brush! That's what you need: a nice new shoe brush."

The horse sighed noisily, then dubiously sniffed on Mary's borrowed trousers and showed Mary its big dark-pink tongue. Before Mary had time to ask what that meant Nick and his horse appeared from behind the shrubs. Without saying a word he kicked Mary's horse and it trotted obediently forward. In no time they reached the cave. Its entrance looked like some industrial waste tube. A dirty stream the colour of clay coming out of the cave only increased that resemblance. Mary looked at it with philosophical calmness. She tried to decide whether she would be able to walk into the cave or she had to swim into it. Then she felt somebody's hand on her shoulder: it was Nick offering her a pair of huge Wellingtons.

"Don't you have anything smaller?" she asked without much hope.

"These are the smallest." Nick answered cheerfully. "Put them over your plimsolls and you'll see how comfortable they are."

They weren't comfortable at all and Mary missed first wonders of the cave trying to learn how to walk in them. The bottom of the cave was slippery which didn't boost her confidence. From the beginning of the tour around the caves she remembered only a bizarre xylophone made of pallid stalactites which their guide played with the help of a thin stick. Strangely enough the music he extracted was charming and sweet. He was so proud of his efforts that Mary unthinkingly applauded him and was rewarded for her kindness by getting the stick.

"Play!" said guide firmly with the intonation of a modern healer ordering a legless to walk.

Before they returned to the entrance the guide showed them a big black hole in the wall of cave.

"There is nothing behind it," he said dramatically and Mary didn't understand what he meant: that there was nothing interesting there or that there was a cosmic emptiness stretching from the hole to the end of time and Universe.

"Now make yourself presentable," said Nick, "because we're going to visit a friend of mine and there is no time for you to go home and change."

Mary's dress looked as if the horse chewed it and her white pretty plimsolls were covered in muck.

"Is it far away from here?" she asked inertly.

Nick's friend lived in a picturesque village in the mountains. He had an attractive white house and an enormous garden. In one of its corners they found their host with his guests. Most of them were artists like Nick's friend. It was a very mixed crowd consisting of a half a dozen Greeks, a silent German couple, three bearded Frenchmen, a cute Italian girl who spoke only Italian and a tall grey-haired lady of indeterminate age and nationality who rushed around like a comet. She managed to be in a few places at the same time and talked unstoppably. She jumped at Mary like some hungry tigress and instead of greeting asked:

"Is your husband Greek?"

Mary opened her mouth to say that Nick wasn't her husband but the other one had no intention to listen.

"Awesome!" she screeched and ran away leaving Mary to wonder what exactly made the lady so happy.

To Mary's sincere grief (and Nick's equally sincere joy) the lady sat next to her. She continued chattering but luckily never to Mary. Luckily because Mary was really hungry and the table was packed with different dishes all looking absolutely scrumptious. Mary helped herself with a few stuffed vine leaves, poured tzatziki over them and prepared to enjoy her first course when her weird neighbour put her elbow in the girl's plate. It seemed that she settled very comfortable there and wasn't going to change her position.

Mary tried to reward herself with a corn on a cob but unfortunately the impossible lady found that a good idea too. So she simply snatched Mary's cob from her hand and began to eat it with the speed which could easily land her in the Guinness' book of records. As she was still talking the kernels flew out of her mouth in different directions. Mary felt her appetite vanishing. If she'd start her own dieting course for seriously overweight people, she would become rich in no time, Mary thought looking with distaste at her neighbour. Nick watched them and loved every minute. Mary hated him.

Yet the evening turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable. Mary became friendly with one Greek woman who gave her a recipe of steak and ale pie and a Frenchman who tried to teach her how to dance sirtaki. Then their host joined in and the three of them ran and hopped around the garden like some maniacs. An enormous festive moon smiled at them and music was wild and vivid and urged them to move faster and faster. And still faster.

Mary had a great time. Especially after her mad neighbour took a sudden interest in an Italian girl and went to give her a crash course in the Japanese art of calligraphy.

Nick drove Mary home when the night wasn't young anymore.

"Let's have a dip," he said unexpectedly, "the sea is really great in the night."

Mary refused curtly and not politely.

"As you wish." Nick agreed and stopped the car.

The sea was so close, only a strip of a shore separated them from it. The sky was black, the water was black and once again it was impossible to tell where the sea ends and the

heavens start.

Mary swam along the moon path towards the mysterious something which name was

Infinity. She didn't see much around her and she didn't care. She didn't want to go back. She felt like becoming a part of Nature. She was a wave, a blackness of the night, a salty sigh of the breeze.

"Penny for your thought," said Nick in his boring loathsome voice but Mary who loved the entire Universe at that moment forgave him.

"What do you do here?" she asked with celestial intonation. "I thought you stayed on the beach."

"I meant to. But you were swimming away with such fervour that I decided to join you."

With these words he turned her in an opposite direction.

"No," she said stubbornly, "I don't want to go back."

"It's OK," he consoled her, "you won't be there soon."

And she realised how far away from the shore she was and at first felt fear and then tiredness.

"Don't be afraid," said Nick, "I'm with you. I will always be with you."

Later Mary asked him:

"Why do you do everything to annoy me?"

And he answered:

"You came to the land so beautiful, that once even gods didn't mind to live here. Yet you try to do nothing, to see nothing, to learn nothing. It's wrong! I want you to fell in love with this place as much as I have."

He thoughtfully drew her close to him and in the fading light of the moon she saw that his eyes weren't black but blue. Dark-dark blue but still blue…

The great English weather was behaving badly once more, the promised BBQ summer turned out to be cold and wet. When Jane strolled slowly along the promenade sharp gusts of wind tugged her skirt and it flapped as if trying to fly away. The sky was low and the sea was the colour of led. This abundance of different shades of grey was rather beautiful in a gloomy apocalyptic way.

After her solitary walk Jane went back into her empty home: the children were in Italy staying in Adam's parents' villa and her husband was in one of his business trips. On his return they were going to join the kids. She put the kettle on and had a cup of tea and a bit of salad which her mum for some obscure reason called _Tenderness_.

After supper Jane went around the flat: everything was clean, orderly and didn't need her attention. She tried to read but couldn't concentrate on her book. She switched TV on but got the same result. There were still at least four hours to kill before going to bed. She went into the study, sat in front of the computer, opened a new Word document and started writing a letter which she knew would never be sent.

That's what she wrote:

_I loved you. My God, how much I loved you! I love you now. I can't lie. I don't want to lie. It looks like I'm going to love you to the end of my days. Funny, isn't it?_

_Why are you leaving me? Don't you know that I can't live without you? I can't think without you. I can't breathe without you. We were so happy together! We were happy, weren't we? Or could it be that I deceived myself and all the time while we were being together you weren't with me? And now you're finally leaving for good and my stupid pride doesn't allow me to run after you and hold you back. _

"_Stay," my heart is shouting but you don't hear its screams. You've made your decision and are not going to change it. Goodbye. I have to give in. Fate is stronger than I am._

_I'll live._

_I'll live. Nothing will change in the world. The sun will rise as always in the morning and I will be busy with my everyday routine but from time to time I will be stopping in my tracks to think of you. Today, tomorrow. And the day after tomorrow. And the next day._

_Forever._

_There will always be people around me and in each of them I will search for your dear features. And perhaps I will find them but I won't find you. I will live among the strangers, I will talk to them, I will laugh so not to cry, I will live. But there will be no joy, no grief, no happiness, no pain…only emptiness. Oh, such an endless emptiness!_

_You will tell the other one that you love her. She will become your life, your time, your anxiety, your rest. It's her lips you will kiss and her hand you will touch. You will learn to be tender, jealous, miserable…_

_You will learn to love._

_I believe…no, I know that one day we'll meet again. I have no idea when, why and how. But it will happen._

_You will recognise me. You will say "hello!" and tell me about your life. And I…I will smile. Just smile and smile and smile trying with the warmth of my heart to melt down a wall of ice standing between us. I'll do it. I'm very strong: I'll do it. Do you hear me? I'll do it. You only trust me and I'll do it._

_I'll do it!_

_I'll do it!_

_I'll do it!_

_And you will never leave me again…_

The end of Part 1

To be continued sometime in the future with one of them getting divorced and another

one married but not to the guy she was going to,

The third one becoming rich and famous,

The fourth being torn between two men and the fifth being beaten by her admirer's jealous partner and finding through that her One and Only (well, more or less One and sort of Only).

Can you guess which one is which?

Don't be shy, make your guesses and in the meantime Merry Christmas and a very happy New Year.

Let all your wishes come true in the 2015!

Marina


End file.
